"Beyond my solitude is another solitude, and to him who dwells therein my
aloneness is a crowded market-place and my silence a confusion of sounds.
Too young am I and too restless to seek that above-solitude. The voices of
yonder valley still hold my ears and its shadows bar my way and I cannot go.
Beyond these hills is a grove of enchantment and to him who dwells
therein my peace is but a whirlwind and my enchantment an illusion.
Too young am I and too riotous to seek that sacred grove.
Beyond this burdened self lives my freer self; and to him my dreams are a
battle fought in twilight and my desires the rattling of bones.
Too young am I and too outraged to be my freer self. And how shall I become
my freer self unless I slay my burdened selves, or unless all men become free?
How shall the eagle in me soar against the sun until my fledglings
leave the nest which I with my own beak have built for them?"
- Kahlil Gibran