If France Is To Be Judged, Judge

What Sets Men At Variance Is But The Treachery Of Language, For Always They Desire The Same Things.

What Was My Body To Me? A Kind Of Flunkey In My Service. Let But My Anger Wax Hot, My Love Grow Exalted, My Hatred Collect In Me, And That Boasted Solidarity Between Me And My Body Was Gone.

No Individual Is Isolated. He Who Is Sad, Saddens Others.

You - You Alone Will Have The Stars As No One Else Has Them...in One Of The Stars I Shall Be Living. In One Of Them I Shall Be Laughing. And So It Will Be As If All The Stars Were Laughing, When You Look At The Sky At Night...you - Only You - Will Have Stars That Can Laugh.

On Ne Sait Jamais! One Never Knows!