One Doesn't Live In A Country, One

When Every Man Has Realized That His Birth Is A Defeat, Existence, Endurable At Last, Will Seem Like The Day After A Surrender, Like The Relief And The Repose Of The Conquered.

Only Optimists Commit Suicide, Optimists Who No Longer Succeed At Being Optimists. The Others, Having No Reason To Live, Why Would They Have Any To Die?

We Die In Proportion To The Words We Fling Around Us.

Intelligence Flourishes Only In The Ages When Belief Withers.

For You Who No Longer Possess It, Freedom Is Everything, For Us Who Do, It Is Merely An Illusion.