Quotes About Freedom

that called itself the jazz sound, but

Freedom of the press is a flaming sword," I said. "Use it wisely, hold it high, guard it well.

Freedom of the press is a flaming sword. Use it wisely, hold it high, guard it well.

Conversation between Susan's therapist and Spenser - And when you find her? Then what? Then she will be free again to come here and work with you until she can make the choices she wishes to make. And what if you are not that choice? I think I will be. But I can't control that. What I can do is see that she's free to choose.

All at once that was the most important thing—to get out of the dark.

A man in armor is his armor's slave.

Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free!

By Oppression's woes and pains! By your sons in servile chains! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be free! Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow! Let us do or die!

Who hath desires must ever fearful be; Who lives in fear cannot be counted free.

La Chenille/ Caterpillar Work hard, poets, work with good cheer: Work leads to wealth and freedom from fear; And butterflies, for all their graces, Are merely caterpillars who persevere. Guillaume Apollinaire

They tell you to do your thing but they don't mean it. They don't want you to do your own thing, not unless it happens to be their thing, too. It's a laugh, Goober, a fake. Don't disturb the universe, Goober, no matter what the posters say.

They tell you to do your thing but they don't mean it. They don't want you to do your thing, not unless it happens to be their thing, too. It's a laugh, a fake. Don't disturb the universe, no matter what the posters say.

They tell you to do your thing but they don't mean it. They don't want you to do your thing, not unless it happens to be their thing, too.

Eternal vigilance is the price of freedom.

When long-term convicts were first released they often experienced a form of agoraphobia—a fear of open spaces. The prison counselors had a special name for this type of agoraphobia when they attributed it to convicts—the fear of life. Freedom gave a man choices and choices could be terrifying. Every choice was a potential failure.

WHEN COLE CUT HIM FREE, Jon amscrayed back to West Hollywood. He hadn't been home long enough to heat his pool, but Jon stripped as he walked through his house, and hit the water like a naked lawn dart. The

WHEN COLE CUT HIM FREE, Jon amscrayed back to West Hollywood. He hadn't been home long enough to heat his pool, but Jon stripped as he walked through his house, and hit the water like a naked lawn dart. The cold water slapped him; lit up his skin with a thousand stingers, but was clear, and clean, and cleansing. Jon loved it. First thing he did when he got home from a job: into the pool, out; it was like being reborn. Jon

I watched the mirror for black sedans as we pulled away, and checked every side street as we drove to the freeway. I looked for their big black beast as we climbed the ramp, and kept looking, even after the freeway swallowed us, a buffalo joining a herd, one hiding among the many, and finally safe.

She gazed up at the buildings and imagined angels perched on the edge of the roofs; tall slender angels with drooping wings; standing in perfect silence, watching her without expectation as if in an eternal dream: We give you the city. No one is watching. Set yourself free.

I worried, but I couldn't bring myself to trap him inside and make him a prisoner, so I'd put in his door. The house felt empty without him.

Solitude was a spell that freed her.

Larkin pushed the accelerator and felt the wind lift her hair. She bore south on Vine, then east on Wilshire, laughing as her eyes grew wet. Light poles flicked past; red or green, it didn't matter and she didn't care. Honking horns were lost in the rush. Her long hair, the color of pennies, whipped and lashed. She closed her eyes, held them closed, kept them shut even longer, then popped them wide and laughed that she still flew straight and true—

She told herself it was the dry night wind and lashing hair, the way her eyes filled when her lonely race finished, but it was always the same whether the air was dry or not, whether her hair was down or up, so she knew. For those few minutes running across the city, she could be and was herself, purely and truly herself, finding herself in those moments only to lose herself once more when she slowed, falling behind as her true self ran free somewhere ahead in the empty night—

The forgiveness process, properly understood and used, can free those bound by anger and resentment. It does not require accepting injustice or remaining in an abusive situation. It opens the door to reconciliation, but it does not require trusting someone who has proven untrustworthy. Even if the offender remains unrepentant, you can forgive and restore a sense of peace and well-being to your life. The choice is yours.