Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.
I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse borne away with every breath! Misplaced upon the throne misplaced in life. I know not what I could have been, but feel I am not what I should be let it end.
Oh, nature's noblest gift, my grey goose quill, Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will, Torn from the parent bird to form a pen, That mighty instrument of little men.
I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse -- borne away with every breath!
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