Travel Is A Caprice In Childhood, A

Oh How Beautiful To Fall To Give You Flight, To Die To Give You Life, To Rest Under Your Sky; And In Your Enchanted Land Forever Sleep.

The People Do Not Complain Because They Have No Voice; Do Not Move Because They Are Lethargic, And You Say That They Do Not Suffer Because You Have Not Seen Their Hearts Bleed.

Tomorrow At 7, I Shall Be Shot; But I Am Innocent Of The Crime Of Rebellion. I Am Going To Die With A Tranquil Conscience.

I Do Not Write For This Generation. I Am Writing For Other Ages. If This Could Read Me, They Would Burn My Books, The Work Of My Whole Life. On The Other Hand, The Generation Which Interprets These Writings Will Be An Educated Generation; They Will Understand Me And Say: Not All Were Asleep In The Nighttime Of Our Grandparents.

There Can Be No Tyrants Where There Are No Slaves.