It is a useless life that is not consecrated to a great ideal. It is like a stone wasted on the field without becoming a part of any edifice.
Who does not love his own tongue is far worse than a brute or stinking fish.
What is death to me? I have sown the seeds others will reap.
To foretell the destiny of a nation, it is necessary to open a book that tells of her past.
The tyranny of some is possible only through the cowardice of others.
Let us not ask for miracles, let us not ask for concern with what is good for the country of him who comes as a stranger to make his fortune and leave afterwards.