They point
in but one direction. They point to me.
I know not if this earth on which I stand
is the core of the universe or if it is but
a speck of dust lost in eternity. I know not
and I care not. For I know what happiness
is possible to me on earth. And my happiness
needs no higher aim to vindicate it.
My happiness is not the means to any end.
It is the end. It is its own goal.
It is its own purpose.
Neither am I the means to any end others
may wish to accomplish. I am not a tool
for their use. I am not a servant of their
needs. I am not a bandage for their wounds.
I am not a sacrifice on their altars.
I am a man. This miracle of me is mine
to own and keep, and mine to guard, and
mine to use, and mine to kneel before!
I do not surrender my treasures, nor do
I share them. The fortune of my spirit is
not to be blown into coins of brass and
flung to the winds as alms for the poor
of the spirit. I guard my treasures:
my thought, my will, my freedom.
And the greatest of these is freedom.
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