This day shall end my servitude to poverty. Because the accident of birth has cast my lot within these wretched walls, and made me fellow-prisoner with penury, therefore shall I not throw off my chains when I will? Have I not a soul–a mind? Do I not think, feel, act, speak, like those whom men call noble? May I not, in spite of nature, yet become the builder of my own name– the carver of my own fortunes? By the light of the bright sun, I will no longer be the slave of others! the lowborn serf’–the humble fisher’s lad’– the peasant, hind, and what not, that means baseness of birth and degradation of soul! No; henceforth I will take my place among the highest of them all, or leave my bones to bleach on the sand!