Mourn The Dead, Fight Like Hell For

But In Shimabukuro's Hands, As He Breaks Out Experimental Jazz, Lays Down A Steady Blues Train, Or Shreds On Rock Anthems, This Little Jumping Flea Becomes A Melodic Monster.

Life Comes To The Miners Out Of Their Deaths, And Death Out Of Their Lives

I Am Not Afraid Of The Pen, Or The Scaffold, Or The Sword. I Will Tell The Truth Wherever I Please.

My Friends, It Is Solidarity Of Labor We Want. We Do Not Want To Find Fault With Each Other, But To Solidify Our Forces And Say To Each Other: We Must Be Together; Our Masters Are Joined Together And We Must Do The Same Thing.

Men's Hearts Are Cold. They Are Indifferent.