Not a grave of the murdered for freedom but grows seed for freedom . . . . in its turn to bear seed, Which the winds carry afar and re-sow, and the rains and the snows nourish. Not a disembodied spirit can the weapons of tyrants let loose, But it stalks invisibly over the earth . . whispering counseling cautioning. Liberty let others despair of you . . . . I never despair of you. Is the house shut? Is the master away? Nevertheless be ready . . . . be not weary of watching, He will soon return . . . . his messengers come anon.
