Very Early, I Knew That The Only

We Need To Hear The Excuses Men Make To Themselves For Their Worthlessness.

Tremble Not Before The Free Man, But Before The Slave Who Has Chains To Break.

Who Can Ever Be Alone For A Moment In Italy? Every Stone Has A Voice, Every Grain Of Dust Seems Instinct With Spirit From The Past, Every Step Recalls Some Line, Some Legend Of Long-neglected Lore.

While Any One Is Base, None Can Be Entirely Free And Noble.

No Temple Can Still The Personal Griefs And Strifes In The Breasts Of Its Visitors.