One Must Use The Weapons

A Nomad I Was Even When I Was Very Small And Would Stare At The Road, That White Spellbinding Road Headed Straight For The Unknown ... A Nomad I Will Remain For Life, In Love With Distant And Uncharted Places.

A Subject To Which Few Intellectuals Ever Give A Thought Is The Right To Be A Vagrant, The Freedom To Wander. Yet Vagrancy Is A Deliverance, And Life On The Open Road Is The Essence Of Freedom. To Have The Courage To Smash The Chains With Which Modern Life Has Weighted Us (under The Pretext That It Was Offering Us More Liberty), Then To Take Up The Symbolic Stick And Bundle And Get Out.

The Cowardly Belief That A Person Must Stay In One Place Is Too Reminiscent Of The Unquestioning Resignation Of Animals, Beasts Of Burden Stupefied By Servitude And Yet Always Willing To Accept The Slipping On Of The Harness. There Are Limits To Every Domain, And Laws To Govern Every Organized Power. But The Vagrant Owns The Whole Vast Earth That Ends Only At The Non-existent Horizon, And Her Empire Is An Intangible One, For Her Domination And Enjoyment Of It Are Things Of The Spirit.

From Every Ruin, Life Springs Up Again And Everything That Dies Is Born Again.

To Be Alone Is To Be Free, And Freedom Was The Only Happiness Accessible To My Nature.