No, I haven't
spent my life lining up rhymes and staring at the stars
when one dies with his cause, one is resuscitated on the third day
And since the present cannot be resolved to learn the lessons of the past - when it knows it -, on this December 3, 2021, I delegate my ghost, coming back enraged, because
I am like a volcano that has no mouth,
passing my death turning over in my grave like meat on a spit.
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"He was neither on the right nor on the left", Lamartine, a poet candidate for the presidency of the Republic
During my lifetime, I took a vow of silence after my ebb in political life when, 170 years ago, history was written at sword point: after the revolution of 1848 and the first election presidential, by universal suffrage on my proposal, a so-called new world has finally arrogated to power with naughty manners.
At home in Burgundy, the day after December 2, 1851, Marianne and I had just learned of the events in Paris: Napoleon's nephew, against whom I had warned, had accomplished his coup the day before.
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