Dying People Often Become Childish.

The Stars Are Scattered All Over The Sky Like Shimmering Tears, There Must Be Great Pain In The Eye From Which They Trickled.

Revolution Is Like The Daughters Of Pelias: It Cuts Humanity To Pieces In Order To Rejuvenate It.

The Statue Of Freedom Has Not Been Cast Yet, The Furnace Is Hot, We Can All Still Burn Our Fingers.

We Have Not Made The Revolution, The Revolution Has Made Us.

One Must Love Humanity In Order To Reach Out Into The Unique Essence Of Each Individual: No One Can Be Too Low Or Too Ugly.