Only the man who has known freedom Can define his prison.

Freedom is a small price to pay for survival.

None of us have much idea where we are. Perhaps all our lives are too concerned with where, and not enough with who.

I remember a story of a girl in Paradise who ate an apple once. Some wise Sapient gave it to her. Because of it she saw things differently. What had seemed gold coins were dead leaves. Rich clothes were rags of cobweb. And she saw there was a wall around the world, with a locked gate.

Only the man who has known freedom Can define his prison.

Nothing has changed, or will change. So we must change it.

Despair is deep. An abyss that swallows dreams. A wall at the world's end. Behind it I await death. Because all our work has come to this.