The Airplane Has Unveiled For Us The

What Value Has Compassion That Does Not Take Its Object In Its Arms?

You Will Have Five Hundred Million Little Bells, And I Shall Have Five Hundred Million Springs Of Fresh Water.

Only He Can Understand What A Farm Is, What A Country Is, Who Shall Have Sacrificed Part Of Himself To His Farm Or Country, Fought To Save It, Struggled To Make It Beautiful. Only Then Will The Love Of Farm Or Country Fill His Heart.

Mad Is The Man Who Is Forever Gritting His Teeth Against That Granite Block, Complete And Changeless, Of The Past.

Here Is My Secret. It Is Very Simple: One Sees Well Only With The Heart. The Essential Is Invisible To The Eyes.