Man is born free and everywhere he is in chains
Shackled to trite genius.
To persist with eyes that belongs to others
Is to dwell in the forest of shadows, the valley of despair
Would the sun glow any less brilliantly,
o, if thy neighbor worshipped the moon
Man, destined to imbibe the ambrosia of freedom,
drinks from the tainted well of conventional wisdom
The Nectar of life is sweeter
When it is thy Nectar
Be the dam, the iron arbiter of greatness
And allow greatness only to flow from greatness
like a wild river, if thou desire
Think, for the sanest of all is nothing more than the voice in thyself.
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