Quotes About Freedom

Aquel que se ata una alegría la alada vida destruye; aquel que besa la alegría según vuela vive en la aurora de la eternidad.

The death of Jesus set me free Then what have I to do with thee?

Bil ki; Milton'?n Tanr?'y? ve Melekleri tutuk halde yazmas?n?n, ancak Åžeytanlardan ve Cehennemden özgürce söz etmesinin nedeni onun gerçek bir Åžair olmas? ve bilmeden Åžeytanlar?n taraf?nda yer almas?d?r.

Selfish father of men! Cruel, jealous, selfish fear! Can delight, Chained in night, The virgins of youth and morning bear. 'Does spring hide its joy When buds and blossoms grow? Does the sower Sow by night, Or the plowman in darkness plow? 'Break this heavy chain, That does freeze my bones around! Selfish, vain, Eternal bane, That free Love with bondage bound.

All the itch and clutter of the world, its bother and fuss, its nagging pettiness, can wear you down so easily. And this is why I like the beach ...

Freedom is hammered out on the anvil of discussion, dissent, and debate. —HUBERT H. HUMPHREY

Danse Russe If I when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists above shining trees,-- if I in my north room dance naked, grotesquely before my mirror waving my shirt round my head and singing softly to myself: I am lonely, lonely. I was born to be lonely, I am best so! If I admire my arms, my face, my shoulders, flanks, buttocks against the yellow drawn shades,-- Who shall say I am not the happy genius of my household?

Unleashed! Alone, watching the May moon above the trees . At nine o'clock the park closes. You must be out of the lake, dressed, in your cars and going: they change into their street clothes in the back seats and move out among the trees . The "great beast" all removed before the plunging night, the crickets' black wings and hylas wake .

What was the revolution for? Liberty. But people in France are tired of freedom. It's when people can vote that they realize how catastrophic and stupid are the opinions of their neighbors. Better to have a Bonaparte in charge whom you can never remove and always blame.

To Buckley, she embodied the worst of what in subsequent decades would be called political correctness: the mindless application to every issue of a platitudinous egalitarianism whose practical effect invariably is to expand the reach of totalitarianism.

Yes, Murray Rothbard believed in freedom, and yes, David Koresh believed in God.

no man is ever free and probably could not bear it if he were...

There is something about jumping a horse over a fence, something that makes you feel good. Perhaps it's the risk, the gamble. In any event it's a thing I need.

I reckon I'll be at the beck and call of folks with money all my life, but thank God I won't ever again have to be at the beck and call of every son of a bitch who's got two cents to buy a stamp.

You know that if I were reincarnated, I'd want to come back a buzzard. Nothing hates him or envies him or wants him or needs him. He is never bothered or in danger, and he can eat anything.

Freedom comes with the decision: it does not wait for the act.

He got off on Lincoln and slavery and dared any man there to deny that Lincoln and the negro and Moses and the children of Israel were the same, and that the Red Sea was just the blood that had to be spilled in order that the black race might cross into the Promised Land.

He thought that it was loneliness which he was trying to escape and not himself.

My gad, one of them, warrant officer pilot, captain and M. C. in turn said to me once; if you can treat a crate that way, why do you want to fly at all?

The wagon wound and jolted between the slow and shifting yet constant walls from beyond and above which the wilderness watched them pass, less than inimical now and never to be inimical again since the buck still and forever leaped, the shaking gun-barrels coming constantly and forever steady at last, crashing, and still out of his instant of immortality the buck sprang, forever immortal

To be young. To be young. There is nothing else like it: there is nothing else in the world

But again I dont know. Maybe it didn't take even three years of freedom, immunity from it to learn that perhaps the entire dilemma of man's condition is because of the ceaseless gabble with which he has surrounded himself, enclosed himself, insulated himself from the penalties of his own folly, which otherwise—the penalties, the simple red ink—might have enabled him by now to have made his condition solvent, workable, successful.

Todo hombre tiene el privilegio de destruirse a sí mismo siempre que no haga daño a nadie, siempre que viva para sí mismo y de sí mismo

It is any man's privilege to destroy himself