We Do Not Know The True Value

In The Beds Which The Piety Of The Public Has Prepared On Every Side, Stricken Men Await The Verdict Of Fate.

There Is No French Town In Which The Wounds Inflicted On The Battle-field Are Not Bleeding.

We Can Know Nothing Till After This Grave Debate. The Soul Must Withdraw, For This Is Not Its Hour. Now The Knife Must Divide The Flesh, And Lay The Ravage Bare, And Do Its Work Completely.

Do Not Trust Your Memory; It Is A Net Full Of Holes; The Most Beautiful Prizes Slip Through It.

It Is Always Brave To Say What Everyone Thinks.