Demosthenes

I was born in Paeania and orphaned young; my guardians ate my estate. I learned the law to recover it. I trained my voice: pebbles in the mouth, words against the surf, breath on uphill runs, and the pen as a logographer. If my tongue began halting, it learned to obey thought.

When Philip of Macedon pressed the cities, I left the courts for the Assembly. In the Olynthiacs and Philippics I named the danger and the means: ships, ordered finances, timely alliances. I went to Thebes and we clasped hands. At Chaeronea Macedon broke us; later I spoke over our dead.

I did not fall silent. Ctesiphon proposed a crown for my service; Aeschines arraigned us. In On the Crown I defended my course, and the city judged me right. Then Harpalus arrived with stolen treasure. I was condemned in that affair and went into exile.

After Alexander’s death the city called me back. When Antipater’s agent came for me, I took sanctuary on Calaureia and chose poison rather than a Macedonian court. I measured power with a voice, and learned where speech ends and fate begins.