And That Which Sings And Contemplates In

He Who Does Not Prefer Exile To Slavery Is Not Free By Any Measure Of Freedom, Truth And Duty.

Seven Times Have I Despised My Soul: The Sixth Time When She Despised The Ugliness Of A Face, And Knew Not That It Was One Of Her Own Masks.

You, The Strong, Have I Loved, Though The Marks Of Your Iron Hoofs Are Yet Upon My Flesh.

Wailing And Lamentation Befit Those Who Stand Before The Throne Of Life And Depart Without Leaving In Its Hands A Drop Of The Sweat Of Their Brows Or The Blood Of Their Hearts.

Exaggeration Is Truth That Has Lost Its Temper.