Chapter Forty Six: Prison

How did I escape? With difficulty.

How did I plan this moment? With pleasure.

Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

One of the first signs of the beginning of

understanding is the wish to die. This life

appears unbearable, another unattainable.

One is no longer ashamed of wanting to die;

one asks to be moved from the old cell, which

one hates, to a new one, which one will only

in time come to hate. In this there is also a

residue of belief that during the move the

master will chance along the corridor, look at

the prisoner and say: This man is not to be

locked up again. He is to come with me."

Franz Kafka, Blue Octavo Notebooks

The thing that irks me the most is this

shattered prison, after all. I'm tired of being enclosed here. I'm wearying to escape into that

glorious world, and to be always there: not

seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning

for it through the walls of an aching heart:

but really with it, and in it.

Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

The world is a prison in which solitary

confinement is preferable.

Karl Kraus

Stone walls do not a prison make,

Nor iron bars a cage;

Minds innocent and quiet take

That for an hermitage;

If I have freedom in my love

And in my soul am free,

Angels alone, that soar above,

Enjoy such liberty.

Richard Lovelace, To Althea, From Prison

You are in prison. If you wish to get out

of prison, the first thing you must do is

realize that you are in prison. If you think you

are free, you can't escape.

G.I. Gurdjieff

I had no real communication with anyone

at that time, so I was totally dependent on God.

And he never failed me.

Diet Eman, Things We Couldn't Say

The dogs brought it back to, you know,

to the human side.

Luis Carlos Montálvan, Until Tuesday:

A Wounded Warrior and the Golden Retriever

Who Saved Him

To Cassidy, the panopticon wasn't a metaphor.

It was the greatest failing on everything

she was, a prison she had built for herself

out of an inability to appear anything less

than perfect. And so she ghosted on, in

relentless pursuit of escape, not from society,

but from herself. She would always be confined

by what everyone expected of her because

she was too afraid and too unwilling

to correct our imperfect imaginings.

Robyn Schneider, The Beginning of Everything

x---------x

Picture from Pexels.

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