a devil art thou, Poverty! How many desires - how many aspirations after goodness
and truth - how many noble thoughts, loving wishes toward our fellows, beautiful
imaginings thou hast crushed under thy heel, without remorse or pause!
I see the secret of the making of the best persons. It is to grow in the open
air and to eat and sleep with the earth."
you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, and so on
- have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear - what remains?
is what you should do;
love the Earth and sun and the animals,
riches, give alms to everyone that asks,
stand up for the stupid and crazy,
devote your income and labour to others,
hate tyrants, argue not concerning
have patience and indulgence towards the people,
take off your
hat to nothing known or unknown
or to any many or number of men...
all you have been told at school
or church or in any book,
insults your soul,
and your very flesh shall be a great poem."
is the glory of expression