If We Must Die, O Let Us

I Have Forgotten Much, But Still Remember The Poinsiana's Red, Blood-red In Warm December.

If We Must Die, O Let Us Nobly Die.

Adventure-seasoned And Storm-buffeted, I Shun All Signs Of Anchorage, Because The Zest Of Life Exceeds The Bound Of Laws.

We Are Like Trees. We Wear All Colors Naturally.

Idealism Is Like A Castle In The Air If It Is Not Based On A Solid Foundation Of Social And Political Realism.