Cultivo una rosa blanca,
En julio como en enero,
Para el amigo sincero
Que me da su mano franca.
Y para el cruel que me arranca
El corazon con que vivo,
Cardo ni oruga cultivo
Cultivo una rosa blanca.

I have a white rose to tend
In July as in January;
I give it to the true friend
Who offers his frank hand to me.
And to the cruel one whose blows
Break the heart by which I live,
Thistle nor thorn do I give:
For him, too, I have a white rose.

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Books console us, calm us, prepare us, enrich us and redeem us.

Amor cuerdo, no es amor.
(Sane love, is not love)

To Educate is to Free.

Man has to suffer. When he has no real afflictions, he invents some.

El amor, madre, a la patria
no es el amor ridículo a la tierra,
ni a la yerba que pisan nuestras plantas;
Es el odio invencible a quien la oprime,
es el rencor eterno a quien la ataca

A good soul on earth hurts very much.