If It's A Despot You Would Dethrone,

Happiness Is A Myth We Seek, If Manifested Surely Irks; Like River Speeding To The Plain, On Its Arrival Slows And Murks. For Man Is Happy Only In His Aspiration To The Heights; When He Attains His Goal, He Cools And Longs For Other Distant Flights.

Your Hearts Know In Silence The Secrets Of The Days And The Nights.

Much Of Your Pain Is The Bitter Potion By Which The Physician Within You Heals Your Sick Self.

You May Chain My Hands, You May Shackle My Feet; You May Even Throw Me Into A Dark Prison; But You Shall Not Enslave My Thinking, Because It Is Free!

Every Man Is Two Men; One Is Awake In The Darkness, The Other Asleep In The Light.