There Is Only One Way In Which

It Was Not His Habit To Dwell On What Could Have Been, But What Could Never Be.

We Do Not Work For Men. We Work For The Land And The People. We Do Not Even Work For Money.

Let Me Not Be Afraid To Defend The Weak Because Of The Anger Of The Strong, Nor Afraid To Defend The Poor Because Of The Anger Of The Rich.

Cry, The Beloved Country, For The Unborn Child That's The Inheritor Of Our Fear. Let Him Not Love The Earth Too Deeply. Let Him Not Laugh Too Gladly When The Water Runs Through His Fingers, Nor Stand Too Silent When The Setting Sun Makes Red The Veld With Fire. Let Him Not Be Too Moved When The Birds Of His Land Are Singing. Nor Give Too Much Of His Heart To A Mountain Or A Valley. For Fear Will Rob Him If He Gives Too Much.

But When The Dawn Will Come, Of Our Emancipation, From The Fear Of Bondage And The Bondage Of Fear, Why, That Is A Secret.