Does Anyone Really Know Where

Wandering In A Vast Forest At Night, I Have Only A Faint Light To Guide Me. A Stranger Appears And Says To Me: 'my Friend, You Should Blow Out Your Candle In Order To Find Your Way More Clearly.' This Stranger Is A Theologian.

To Be Born In Imbecility, In The Midst Of Pain And Crisis; To Be The Plaything Of Ignorance, Error, Need, Sickness, Wickedness, And Passions; To Return Step By Step To Imbecility, From The Time Of Lisping To That Of Doting; To Live Among Knaves And Charlatans Of All Kinds; To Die Between One Man Who Takes Your Pulse And Another Who Troubles Your Head; Never To Know Where You Come From, Why You Come And Where You Are Going! That Is What Is Called The Most Important Gift Of Our Parents And Nature. Life.

Shakespeare's Fault Is Not The Greatest Into Which A Poet May Fall. It Merely Indicates A Deficiency Of Taste.

You Have To Make It Happen.

We Are A Free People; And Now You Have Planted In Our Country The Title Deeds Of Our Future Slavery. You Are Neither God Nor Demon; Who Are You, Then, To Make Slaves? Orou! You Understand The Language Of These Men, Tell Us All, As You Have Told Me, What They Have Written On This Sheet Of Metal: This Country Is Ours. This Country Yours? And Why? Because You Have Walked Thereon? If A Tahitian Landed One Day On Your Shores, And Scratched On One Of Your Rocks Or On The Bark Of Your Trees: This Country Belongs To The People Of Tahiti - What Would You Think?