The Wise Man Is He

One Cannot Resist An Idea Whose Time Has Come.

War Can Only Be Qualified By Its Object, And There Is Neither Foreign War Nor Civil War, There Is Only Just Or Unjust War.

Love Is A Portion Of The Soul Itself, And It Is Of The Same Nature As The Celestial Breathing Of The Atmosphere Of Paradise.

Great Grief Is A Divine And Terrible Radiance Which Transfigures The Wretched.

Such Is The Remorseless Progression Of Human Society, Shedding Lives And Souls As It Goes On Its Way. It Is An Ocean Into Which Men Sink Who Have Been Cast Out By The Law And Consigned, With Help Most Cruelly Withheld, To Moral Death. The Sea Is The Pitiless Social Darkness Into Which The Penal System Casts Those It Has Condemned, An Unfathomable Waste Of Misery. The Human Soul, Lost In Those Depths, May Become A Corpse. Who Shall Revive It?