The breath of an aristocrat is the death rattle of freedom.

The breath of an aristocrat is the death rattle of freedom.

The death clock is ticking slowly in our breast, and each drop of blood measures its time, and our life is a lingering fever.

I'll know how to die with courage; that is easier than living.

The weapon of the Republic is terror, and virtue is its strength.

Peace to the shacks! War on the palaces!