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A brave man's country is wherever he chooses his abode.
[Lat., Patria est ubicumque vir fortis sedem elegerit.]
A brave man's country is wherever he chooses his abode.
[Lat., Patria est ubicumque vir fortis sedem elegerit.]
Who would not be that youth? What pity is it
That we can die but once to save our read more
Who would not be that youth? What pity is it
That we can die but once to save our country!
The line of red are lines of blood, nobly and unselfishly shed by
men who loved the liberty of read more
The line of red are lines of blood, nobly and unselfishly shed by
men who loved the liberty of their fellowmen more than they loved
their fellowmen more than they lover their own lives and
fortunes. God forbid that we would have to use the blood of
America to freshen the color of the flag. But if it should ever
be necessary, that flag will be colored once more, and in being
colored will be glorified and purified.
There are many different voice and languages; but there is but
one voice of the peoples when you are read more
There are many different voice and languages; but there is but
one voice of the peoples when you are declared to be the true
"Father of your country."
[Lat., Vox diversa sonat: populorum est vox tamen una,
Cum verus Patriae diceris esse Pater.]
"My country, right or wrong," is a thing that no patriot would
think of saying except in a desperate read more
"My country, right or wrong," is a thing that no patriot would
think of saying except in a desperate case. It is like saying,
"My mother, drunk or sober."
Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it.
Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it.
You'll never have a quiet world till you knock the patriotism out of the human race.
You'll never have a quiet world till you knock the patriotism out of the human race.
Millions for defence, but not one cent for tribute.
Millions for defence, but not one cent for tribute.
Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native read more
Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land!
