From a small seed a mighty trunk may grow.

Black smoke, the flickering sister of fire.

On me the tempest falls. It does not make me tremble. O holy Mother Earth, O air and sun, behold me. I am wronged.

Truth is always the first casualty of war.

There is no disgrace in an enemy suffering ill at an enemy's hand, when you hate mutually.

So in the Libyan fable it is told That once an eagle, stricken with a dart, Said, when he saw the fashion of the shaft: With our own feathers, not by others' hands, Are we now smitten.

The laws of a state change with the changing times.