The strides of humanity are slow, they can only be counted in centuries.

Whoever finishes a revolution only halfway, digs his own grave.

We are only puppets, our strings are being pulled by unknown forces.

One must love humanity in order to reach out into the unique essence of each individual: no one can be too low or too ugly.

Raise your eyes and count the small gang of your oppressors who are only strong through the blood they suck from you and through your arms which you lend them unwillingly.

The statue of Freedom has not been cast yet, the furnace is hot, we can all still burn our fingers.