I drink because I wish to multiply my sufferings.
In the end they will lay their freedom at our feet and say to us, Make us your slaves, but feed us.
Woe to the man who offends a small child!
A just cause is not ruined by a few mistakes.
My soul bleeds and the blood steadily, silently, disturbingly slowly, swallows me whole.
There is nothing higher and stronger and more wholesome and useful for life in later years than some good memory, especially a memory connected with childhood, with home.