Cries rise up on every side. Who shouts? It is we who shout - the living, the dead, and the unborn. But at once we are crushed by fear, and we fall silent. And then we forget - out of laziness, out of habit, out of cowardice. But suddenly the Cry tears at our entrails once more, like an eagle. For the Cry is not outside us, it does not come from a great distance that we may escape it. It sits in the center of our hearts, and cries out. God shouts: 'Burn your houses! I am coming! Whoever has a house cannot receive me! 'Burn your ideas, smash your thoughts! Whoever has found the solution cannot find me.'

At every moment of crisis an array of men risk their lives in the front ranks as standard-bearers of God to fight and take upon themselves the whole responsibi…

This is our epoch, good or bad, beautiful or ugly, rich or poor - we did not choose it. This is our epoch, the air we breathe, the mud given us, the bread, the…

Eros? What other name may we give that impetus which becomes enchanted as soon as it casts its glance on matter and then longs to impress its features upon it?…

The decisive moment in human evolution is perpetual. That is why the revolutionary spiritual movements that declare all former things worthless are in the righ…

Rizal is the spirit of contradiction; a soul that dreads the revolution, although deep down desires it.

Written in red their protest stands, For the Gods of the World to see; On the dooming wall their bodiless hands have blazoned 'Upharsin,' and flaring brands Il…