Through great searching, I have found in my heart that the essence of Armenia is not in its land. Rather, it is in its blood, the red that fills his veins and those of his people, the blood that spills, the blood that gives and has life, the blood that feels, the blood whose flavor is the core of what our nation is. For in losing land, the Armenian hopes yet still and makes voyage to conquer and finding his home in the blood of God, of Christ. And in his sacrifice we receive ourselves, bleeding, alive, and living, and longing for our heavenly home, and the victory of the cross.
We are a people familiar with our own blood, which has been spilt on the ground for millennia as martyrs and victorious crusaders and a people having endured genocide for centuries.