Only The Soldier Is A Free Man,

He Who Has Done His Best For His Own Time Has Lived For All Times.

A Pity About The People! They Are Brave Enough Comrades, But They Have Heads Like A Soapboiler's.

Where There Is Much Freedom There Is Much Error.

Everlastingly Chained To A Single Little Fragment Of The Whole, Man Himself Develops Into Nothing But A Fragment; Everlastingly In His Ear The Monotonous Sound Of The Wheel That He Turns, He Never Develops The Harmony Of His Being, And Instead Of Putting The Stamp Of Humanity Upon His Own Nature, He Becomes Nothing More Than The Imprint Of His Occupation Or Of His Specialized Knowledge.

The Victor Is Often Vanquished By His Own Success.