Riches I hold in light esteem, / And Love I laugh to scorn; / And lust of fame was but a dream, / That vanished with the morn: / And if I pray, the only prayer / That moves my lips for me / Is, "Leave the heart that now I bear, / And give me liberty!" / Yes, as my swift days near their goal: / 'Tis all that I implore; / In life and death a chainless soul, / With courage to endure.
-Emily Brontë
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