I would rather go to the forest far away and build me a little
cabin--build it myself and daub it with mud, and live there with my wife
aud family--and have a little path that led down to the spring, where
the water bubbled out day and night, like a little poem from the heart
of the earth; a little hut with some hollyhocks at the corner, with
their bannered bosoms open to the sun, and with the thrush in the air,
like a song of joy in the morning; I would rather live there and have
some lattice work across the window, so that the sunlight would fall
checkered on the baby in the cradle; I would rather live there and have
my soul erect and free, than to live in a palace of gold and wear the
crown of imperial power and know that my soul was slimy with hypocrisy.