Where Books Are Burned In The End

Round My Cradle Shimmered The Last Moonbeams Of The Eighteenth Century And The First Morning Rays Of The Nineteenth.

God Will Forgive Me. It's His Job." Heine Said This On His Deathbed (1856). Hilarious. He Must Have Thought That Up Years Before And Counted The Seconds To Use It.

Since The Exodus, Freedom Has Always Spoken With A Hebrew Accent.

I Have Smelt All The Aromas There Are In The Fragrant Kitchen They Call Earth; And What We Can Enjoy In This Life, I Surely Have Enjoyed Just Like A Lord!

Music Is A Strange Thing. I Would Almost Say It Is A Miracle. For It Stands Halfway Between Thought And Phenomenon, Between Spirit And Matter.