There must be freedom for all to live, to think, to worship, no

“There must be freedom for all to live, to think, to worship, no book, no avenue must be closed,” declared James Larkin, the great Irish labor leader whose voice rose like thunder over the struggles of the working class. His words are not the mere cry of politics, but the song of the human spirit demanding its due. In them, we hear the echo of all who have ever yearned for freedom — not the shallow freedom of comfort or wealth, but the deeper, sacred freedom of the soul: to breathe, to believe, to learn, to create, to stand tall as a child of the divine. Larkin spoke not just for his time, but for all times — for every heart that has known oppression and still dared to hope.

The origin of this quote lies in the fires of early 20th-century Ireland, an age of struggle and awakening. James Larkin, born into poverty, rose from the docks of Liverpool and Belfast to become a leader of men, a champion of workers’ dignity. He saw with his own eyes how ignorance and injustice shackled the human mind as much as poverty shackled the body. And so, he fought not only for fair wages and labor rights, but for intellectual and spiritual liberty — for the right of every man and woman to think freely, read widely, and worship according to conscience. In his vision, true equality meant more than bread on the table; it meant light in the mind and peace in the heart.

When Larkin said, “No book, no avenue must be closed,” he was striking at the walls that tyrants and systems build to keep the poor uneducated, the powerless voiceless, the faithful divided. To close a book is to close a mind; to forbid thought is to imprison the soul. He knew that oppression thrives in darkness, but that freedom begins with knowledge. Just as a worker cannot labor without tools, so too the spirit cannot flourish without truth. And truth cannot be confined — it belongs to all. Every human being, regardless of class or creed, must have the right to explore the world’s wisdom, to think without fear, and to worship without restraint.

History, too, bears witness to this eternal struggle. Think of Galileo Galilei, who gazed at the heavens and declared that the earth moves around the sun. For this truth, he was silenced by those who feared knowledge. Think of the books burned by despots, the prayers forbidden by empires, the minds suppressed by dogma. And yet, every flame that sought to destroy knowledge only made its light spread farther. The human spirit, once awakened, cannot be chained. It rises from ashes, it speaks through whispers, it writes in secret — until, one day, it breaks through with a roar. In this, Larkin stood among those ancient guardians of liberty, proclaiming that freedom of thought and conscience is the lifeblood of civilization itself.

But his call was not only for the learned or the powerful — it was for the common man, the laborer, the mother, the dreamer. He believed that freedom to live meant more than the right to exist; it meant the right to live with dignity. To think was not a luxury, but a duty; to worship, not a privilege, but a birthright. And so, he urged his people to stand, to speak, to claim the fullness of their humanity. For a society that denies freedom of mind or soul is no society at all — it is a prison with invisible bars.

The wisdom of Larkin’s words lies in their universality. They transcend class, race, and nation, for they touch the core of what it means to be human. Every generation must defend these freedoms anew, for there will always be those who seek to silence, to censor, to control. And yet, as long as there are voices willing to speak truth, as long as there are hearts that cherish learning, the avenues of the spirit will never be closed. Freedom is not given — it is guarded, nourished, and renewed through courage and compassion.

So, dear listener, what lesson do we take from James Larkin’s eternal cry? It is this: protect your freedom of mind as fiercely as your breath. Read deeply. Think bravely. Let no one dictate what you may believe or whom you may love. Defend the freedom of others as your own, for liberty is not solitary — it lives only when shared. Open the books that others fear, listen to voices different from your own, and let your soul remain unbound.

For when you do, you become a guardian of the same truth Larkin lived and died for — that freedom is not the privilege of the few, but the inheritance of all. And when every human being can live, think, and worship without chains, the world itself becomes the garden of light that he dreamed of — a place where no avenue is closed, and where every spirit walks upright beneath the boundless sky of truth.