Aforismi in lingua originale - The Ballad of the White Horse.

         I know that weeds shall grow in it

          Faster than men can burn;

          And though they scatter now and go,

          In some far century, sad and slow,

          I have a vision, and I know

          The heathen shall return.

          "They shall not come with warships,

          They shall not waste with brands,

          But books be all their eating,

          And ink be on their hands.

          "Not with the humour of hunters

          Or savage skill in war,

          But ordering all things with dead words,

          Strings shall they make of beasts and birds,

          And wheels of wind and star.

          "They shall come mild as monkish clerks,

          With many a scroll and pen;

          And backward shall ye turn and gaze,

          Desiring one of Alfred's days,

          When pagans still were men.

Gilbert Keith Chesterton, The Ballad of the White Horse.