Death is turning out the lamp because the dawn has appeared.

If you allow your mind to carp at all and sundry, it will turn against itself: the majority of our sorrows are self-inflicted.

This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.

The greed for fruit misses the flower.

For man is by nature an artist.

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high, where knowledge is free. Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls. Where words come out from the depth of truth, where tireless striving stretches its arms toward perfection. Where the clear stream of reason has not lost it's way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit. Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever widening thought and action. In to that heaven of freedom, my father, LET MY COUNTRY AWAKE!

When I go from hence, let this be my parting word, that what I have seen is unsurpassable.