Whether we be Italians or Frenchmen, misery concerns us all. Ever since history has been written, ever since philosophy has meditated, misery has been the garment of the human race; the moment has at length arrived for tearing off that rag, and for replacing, upon the naked limbs of the Man-People, the sinister fragment of the past with the grand purple robe of the dawn.

A stout heart may be ruined in fortune but not in spirit.

Sublime upon sublime scarcely presents a contrast, and we need a little rest from everything, even the beautiful.

I don't mind what Congress does, as long as they don't do it in the streets and frighten the horses.

Every body drags its shadow, and every mind its doubt.

If suffer we must, let's suffer on the heights.

Do you hear the people sing Lost in the valley of the night? It is the music of a people Who are climbing to the light. For the wretched of the earth There is a flame that never dies. Even the darkest night will end And the sun will rise.