Tomorrow At 7, I Shall Be Shot;

Oh How Beautiful To Fall To Give You Flight, To Die To Give You Life, To Rest Under Your Sky; And In Your Enchanted Land Forever Sleep.

Who Does Not Love His Own Tongue Is Far Worse Than A Brute Or Stinking Fish.

When There Is In Nature No Fixed Condition, How Much Less Must There Be In The Life Of A People, Beings Endowed With Mobility And Movement!

Law Has No Skin, Reason Has No Nostrils.

He Who Does Not Know How To Look Back At Where He Came From Will Never Get To His Destination.