Quotes About Confinement

how long did I think we were going to live in stuffy cabins, doing filthy things together and never behaving like ordinary people

The tiny madman in his padded cell

He could not even see the bluish glimmer of a window or those faint patches of light which come to stay with the walls at night

There is nothing more gray, stultifying, or dreary than life lived inside the confines of a theory.

Louie and Phil were separated again, and Louie was locked in an officer's cabin. Every few days, he had strange visits from a grinning sailor who would lean into the room, say, "Thump on the head for a biscuit?," rap his knuckles on Louie's head, hand him a biscuit, and amble away.

No one is going to hear what she says whether she speaks or not. Simply she could close her eyes and never speak again. She could suck all of the air in this room-every dust mote, every atom-into her body and hide it inside her…

When I built my luminous prison around you, you simply lay down at the center of it and died.

Te juro que el infierno debe ser un lugar donde te encierran con tus consecuencias y te obligan a lidiar con ellas.

el infierno debe ser un lugar donde te encierran con tus consecuencias y te obligan a lidiar con ellas.

Obviously I cannot

And they never let him go.

and disappointed King Ferdinand clapped Solis in jail.

Magellan's crew, confined aboard their ships, relied on worm-eaten biscuits

There was no use in trying to emancipate a wife who had not the dimmest notion that she was not free," Wharton wrote in her Pulitzer Prize–winning novel, The Age of Innocence.

Laugh—be jolly. There are those who think it lordly to be cold as a stone, but feelings are like wolves. When caged they become more ferocious, and at the end, they always escape.

She had felt, finally, as if she could speak without immediately bumping into the hard shell of her sheltered life, as if she suddenly saw that the solid walls penning her in were actually bars, with spaces between them wide enough to slip through.

She had felt, finally, as if she could speak without immediately bumping into the hard shell of her sheltered life, as it she suddenly saw that the solid walls penning her in were actually bars, with spaces between them wide enough to slip through.

Was she the bird trying to batter its way free, or was she the cage?

the feeling that the place you're in is too small.

Don't sanctuaries become prisons, and vice versa, foremost in the mind?

Prison and the asylums had made me worse, not better. I had truly become a hostage of my past, condemned by my reputation and my fucked-up mind.

Skewered through and through with office pens, and bound hand and foot with red tape.

Cramped in all kinds of dim cupboards and hutches at Tellson's, the oldest of men carried on the business gravely. When they took a young man into Tellson's London house, they hid him somewhere till he was old. They kept him in a dark place, like a cheese, until he had the full Tellson flavour and blue-mould upon him. Then only was he permitted to be seen, spectacularly poring over large books, and casting his breeches and gaiters into the general weight of the establishment.

She never went out herself, and like a great many other old ladies of the same stamp, she was apt to consider it an act of domestic treason, if anybody else took the liberty of doing what she couldn't.