Quotes About Freedom

That's what it means to be out of your mind. To let yourself be carried away by a dream. To give it room, let it grow wild and thick, until it overruns you.

Before he had come to the town he had known about nothing but death: here he had learnt to live, to decide things for himself; he had learnt what it felt like to wash in clean water in the sunshine until he was clean himself, and what it felt like to satisfy his hunger with food that tasted good; he had learnt the sound of laughter that was free from cruelty; he had learnt the meaning of beauty

The sun glistened on a drop of water as it fell from his hand to his knee. David wiped it off, but it left no tidemark: there was no more dirt to rub away. He took a deep breath and shivered. He was David. Everything else was washed away, the camp, its smell, its touch--and now he was David, his own master, free--free as long as he could remain so.

David set his foot in a gap higher up the barbed wire...When would the searchlight come?They could not be certain of hitting him in the dark...and if they did not hurry, he would be over...Why didn't they hurry up. Then he stopped. He would run no more.When the beam of light caught him,they should see him walking away quite calmly. Then they would not enjoy it so much; they would feel cheated. The thought filled David with triumph. I am David

The strange boy looked astonished. "Why don't you fight then?" He asked crossly. "Because if I hit you back, I'd be no better than you are. I'd be just as rotten and worthless and I'd have no right to be free!

Camping has become one of my most beloved pastimes. I take a fierce delight in swinging a pak o my back or into a canoe and heading for the hills or lakes. In my opinion, camping can be the greatest expression of free will, personal independence, innate ability, and resourcefulness possible today in our industrialized, urbanized existence. Regardless of how miserable or how splendid the circumstances, the sheer experience of camping seems a total justification for doing it.

Forgiveness means it finally becomes unimportant that you hit back. You're done. It doesn't necessarily mean that you want to have lunch with the person. If you keep hitting back, you stay trapped in the nightmare...

Not forgiving is like drinking rat poison and then waiting for the rat to die.

Sometimes one appears to have more freedom than one actually possesses. It is easy to see what one wishes to see.

Marietta is good for you, Gabriel. I quite like her. Don't be a fool and let her go." "I can do nothing but let her go, John. Sometimes love can only be given by setting someone free.

Books allow readers to determine what they wish. People often aren't quite as forgiving if you don't read or see exactly what they wish you to.

Being a writer is something I love to do, plus I get independence. It's a great job for a woman because she can work at home and always be there for the children.

To cry was to release all sorts of ugly little pressures and tensions. Like waking out of a long, dark dream to a sun-filled day.

We shall overcome, We shall overcome / We shall overcome some day.' I WONDER. I really WONDER.

I had to live my life as I saw it.

Him that I love, I wish to be free -- even from me.

It's that nobody has ever been able to convince me that anything sexual between consenting individuals is wrong. I mean it's like part of my brain is missing. Nothing disgusts me. It all seems innocent, to do with profound sensations, and when people tell me they are offended by things, I just don't know what they mean.

I could run nearly naked on a hot, windy beach and plunge without care into a running diamond sea; roll on the sand and fling my arms wide to the sun and still be what I was...young.

Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren

The butterfly owns her now. It covers her and her wounds.

Everyone in me is a bird. I am beating my wings. They wanted to cut you out but they will not. They said you were immeasurably empty bu you are not. They said you were sick unto dying but they were wrong. You are winging like a school girl. You are not torn.

We moved like angels washing themselves. We moved like two birds on fire. — Anne Sexton, from "How We Danced" in "The Death of the Fathers," The Norton Anthology of American Literature , ed. Baym et al, 5th edition, Volume 2, (New York and London: W. W. Norton & Co., 1998)

Everyone in me is a bird I am beating all my wings