The graves, my dear child, graves and bones make the nation.
Those who are not aware of their graves and their bones can never become a nation. They are more alike the wolves and foxes, those who do not know their graves.
And the graves are, my child, silent villages under the ground still having deceased for its inhabitants. The graves are silent beds our forefathers sleep in forever, resting in untouchable peace, these bodies of our ancestors.
( Stefan Nemanja was the Grand Prince (Veliki Župan) of the Serbian Grand Principality (Rascia) from 1166 to 1196, and founder of the Nemanjic dynasty)
The nation is not build just of the living ones who walk and create above the ground, but each and every of the dead as well, resting inside.
One swath does not make a field, nor does one mow. One swath for the field is the same as the one battle or qualm for the nation.
The nation grows in waves and falls in mows of death as grass, but at the same time it develops thicker and thicker through the ground and flourishes with new generations.
Remember, my child, our graves are the holiest marks of our nation and the holiest boundaries of our country.
If no one of the living can give you the answer to the question, what distance does you land and your heritage reach, search for the bones and graves, and the dead will tell you the truth.