All My Life I Struggled To Stretch

What Is Truth? What Is Falsehood? Whatever Gives Wings To Men, Whatever Produces Great Works And Great Souls And Lifts Up A Man's Height Above The Earth - That's True. Whatever Clips Off Man's Wings - That's False.

To Think Things Out Properly And Fairly, A Fellow's Got To Be Calm And Old And Toothless: When You're An Old Gaffer With No Teeth, It's Easy To Say: 'damn It, Boys, You Mustn't Bite!' But, When You've Got All Thirty-two Teeth.

May He Be Cursed On Earth Who Gives His Trust To Virtue, That Bankrupt Crone Who Takes Our Life's Pure Gold And Gives But Bad Receipts For Payment In The Lower World. Ah, Passers-by That Stroll, Travelers That Come And Go, All That I Had, I Placed On Virtue, And Lost The Game!

You Have Your Brush, You Have Your Colors, You Paint The Paradise, Then In You Go.

A Slave's Soul Has No Worth, My Brothers; It Lacks Strength To Tread On This Great Earth With Gallantry And Freedom. I Pity The Poor Slaves, They're Nought But Airy Mist, A Light Breeze Scatters Them, A Fragrance Knocks Them Down; It's Only Just They Crawl On The Earth On Hands And Knees. Today I'll Write A Hymn To God And Pray For This Great Grace.