Quotes About Freedom

When illusions are shattered by truth, talent is set free.

Why do women have to suffer this way? Why don't we have the freedom men have?

She wouldn't have bothered to try to fix it. (her marriage) She would have let herself fall into something fresh and new and delicious.

All these years there had been a Tupperware container of bad language in her head, and now she opened it and all those crisp, crunchy words were fresh and lovely, ready to be used.

A red traffic light loomed, and Cecilia slammed her foot on the brake. The fact that Polly no longer wanted a pirate party was breathtakingly insignificant in comparison to that poor man (thirty!) crashing to the ground for the freedom that Cecilia took for granted, but right now, she couldn't pause to honor his memory, because a last-minute change of party theme was unacceptable. That's what happened when you had freedom. You lost your mind over a pirate party.

As she swam she gloried in the fact that there was nowhere to be, nothing to do, no one to worry about. No jazz pickup or karate drop-off, no homework to supervise, no birthday gifts to buy, no doctors' appointments to book; the endless multitude of teeny-tiny details that made up her life. Each obligation on its own seemed laughably easy. It was the sheer volume that threatened to bury her.

Their uptight concerns about what other people thought seemed like such a waste. Why had they been so careful and contained with their love?

But Grace quite likes the fact that you can think something is one way all your life, and it turns out you're wrong, it can be something else entirely. It makes her feel free. Nothing is rigid. Things change. You can change your mind. You can change your thinking.

She was floating, arms outspread, water lapping her body, breathing in a summery fragrance of salt and coconut.

Or, just ignore it, one day you'll turn forty and you'll slowly realize you don't feel the eyes anymore, and the freedom is a relief, but you'll also sort of miss it, and when a truck driver whistles at you while you're crossing the road, you'll think, Really? For me? It had seemed like a really genuine, friendly whistle too. It was a little humiliating just how much time she'd devoted to analyzing that whistle.

Madison rolled her eyes. "No. I won't care if people say mean things to me, because I'll be grown up. I can just say, 'Who cares? I'm going to France.' " Ah.

She would never again lie in bed on a Good Friday morning and relax in the blissful knowledge that there was nothing to do and nowhere to be, because for the rest of her life, there would always, always be something left undone. An unmade confession. An ugly secret.

I'd pay a million dollars to be Alice and Elisabeth's age again for just one day. I'd dance like Olivia's butterfly and bite into crisp green apples and run across hot sand into the surf, and I'd walk, as far as I wanted, wherever I wanted, in big loping, leaping strides, with my head held high and my lungs filling with air. And I'd probably have sex!

She felt as if she needed to run crazily across a huge expanse of grass, flinging her body about like a puppy let off its leash.

had begun to occur to her that she wasn't trapped because of Logan; she'd been trapped in her own Indira self, like everyone was trapped in their own selves.

the human aspiration to fly." "It's really lovely," said Frances.

one day you'll turn forty and you'll slowly realize you don't feel the eyes anymore, and the freedom is a relief, but you'll also sort of miss it, and when a truck driver whistles at you while you're crossing the road, you'll think, Really? For me?

Did you know that some people wish the Berlin Wall had never come down?" said Esther. "That's weird, isn't it? Why would you want to be stuck behind a wall?

As her mum always says, one of the advantages of being an only child is that you have no trouble amusing yourself.

She has that euphoric feeling you get at the airport after you've checked in your luggage. Nothing can stop your journey.

People can do what they like in the privacy of their own homes.

Fuck it, maybe she'd even get her hair cut.

I want also to suggest that the disabling nature of incarceration and whose bodies are available for capture should likewise be understood as a core feature of incarceration.

I know because I read...Your mind is not a cage. It's a garden. And it requires cultivating.