Il Ne Faut Point Donner D'esprit A'

There Comes A Moment During Which Almost Every Girl Or Boy Falls Into Melancholy; They Are Tormented By A Vague Inquietude Which Rests On Everything And Finds Nothing To Calm It. They Seek Solitude; They Weep; The Silence To Be Found In Cloister Attracts Them: The Image Of Peace That Seems To Reign In Religious Houses Seduces Them. They Mistake The First Manifestations Of A Developing Sexual Nature For The Voice Of God Calling Them To Himself; And It Is Precisely When Nature Is Inciting Them That They Embrace A Fashion Of Life Contrary To Nature's Wish.

Tous Les Jours On Couche Avec Des Femmes Qu'on N'aime Pas, Et L'on Ne Couche Pas Avec Des Femmes Qu'on Aime. Every Day We Sleep With Women We Do Not Love And Don't Sleep With The Women We Do Love.

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?

There Is Less Harm To Be Suffered In Being Mad Among Madmen Than In Being Sane All By Oneself.

Give, But, If Possible, Spare The Poor Man The Shame Of Begging.