Mein Fräulein! Sein sie munter,  Das ist ein altes Stück;  Hier vorne geht sie unter  Und kehrt von hinten zurück.

Heinrich Heine - "Where they have burned books, they will end in burning human beings.

The law of silence: Speak little. Say only what you must. Speak only when necessary. Your oratory should be deeds, not words. You accomplish: let others talk.

Discursul lui Corneliu Zelea Codreanu, in Parlamentul tarii : ” Jidanii sunt…

"Il Vesuvio urlava nella notte, sputando sangue e fuoco. Dal giorno che vide l'ultima rovina di Ercolano e di Pompei, sepolte vive nella tomba di cenere e di lapilli, non s'era mai udita in cielo una così orrenda voce. Un gigantesco albero di fuoco sorgeva altissimo fuor dalla bocca del vulcano: era un'immensa, meravigliosa colonna di fumo e di fiamme, che affondava nel firmamento fino a toccare i pallidi astri."

"Il Vesuvio urlava nella notte, sputando sangue e fuoco. Dal giorno che vide l'ultima rovina di Ercolano e di Pompei, sepolte vive nella tomba di cenere e di lapilli, non s'era mai udita in cielo una così orrenda voce. Un gigantesco albero di fuoco sorgeva altissimo fuor dalla bocca del vulcano: era un'immensa, meravigliosa colonna di fumo e di fiamme, che affondava nel firmamento fino a toccare i pallidi astri."

Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!

Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!

You are also mad, quite mad, To imagine you are not God. Goddam it, aren't you a Spirit, And your ministers a flaming fire?  Portraits by Mati Klarwein - Robert Graves - 1957

Goddam it, aren't you a Spirit, And your ministers a flaming fire? Portraits by Mati Klarwein - Robert Graves - 1957

Love ceases to be a demon only when he ceases to be a god.

Love ceases to be a demon only when he ceases to be a god.

Scattered in Kardamyli

“I haven't got any special religion this morning. My God is the God of Walkers. If you walk hard enough, you probably don't need any other god.

Afar sail shimmers, white and lonely,  Through the blue haze above the foam.  What does it seek in foreign harbours?  What has it left behind at home?    The billows romp, and the wind whistles.  The rigging swings, and the tall mast creaks.  Alas, it is not joy, he flees from,  Nor is it happiness he seeks.    Below, the seas like blue light flowing,  Above, the sun's gold streams increase,  But it is storm the rebel asks for,  As though in storms were peace.

Mikhail Lermontov was a Russian Romantic writer, poet and painter, sometimes called "the poet of the Caucasus", the most important Russian poet after Alexander Pushkin's death in and the greatest figure in Russian Romanticism.

There was no alcohol for us. We were in a red prison.

There was no alcohol for us. We were in a red prison.

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