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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #freed
True freedom only exists in art.The problem is you have to be incredibly good.No,I am putting it wrong:You don't so much have to be outstanding,what you really need are connections,if you don't want to be dependent on all kinds of government foundations who will impose their ideas and restrictions on you in turn.It can be touch and go in the beginning:It takes guts to let go of everything.But you make it,you're free. ↗
#close-up #esther-verhoef #freedom #life #art
I hate fighting with you,” he whispers. “Well, stop being such an arse.” He chuckles and the captivating sound reverberates through his chest. He tightens his hold on me. “Arse?” “Ass.” “I prefer arse.” “You should. It suits you. ↗
#ana-steel #christian-grey #fifty-shades-freed #christianity
People use democracy as a free-floating abstraction disconnected from reality. Democracy in and of itself is not necessarily good. Gang rape, after all, is democracy in action. All men have the right to live their own life. Democracy must be rooted in a rational philosophy that first and foremost recognizes the right of an individual. A few million Imperial Order men screaming for the lives of a much smaller number of people in the New World may win a democratic vote, but it does not give them the right to those lives, or make their calls for such killing right. Democracy is not a synonym for justice or for freedom. Democracy is not a sacred right sanctifying mob rule. Democracy is a principle that is subordinate to the inalienable rights of the individual. ↗
I began to think of myself as a perennial tourist. There was something agreeable about this. To be a tourist is to escape accountability. Errors and failings don't cling to you the way they do back home. You're able to drift across continents and languages, suspending the operation of sound thought. Tourism is the march of stupidity. You're expected to be stupid. The entire mechanism of the host country is geared to travelers acting stupidly. You walk around dazed, squinting into fold-out maps. You don't know how to talk to people, how to get anywhere, what the money means, what time it is, what to eat or how to eat it. Being stupid is the pattern, the level and the norm. You can exist on this level for weeks and months without reprimand or dire consequence. Together with thousands, you are granted immunities and broad freedoms. You are an army of fools, wearing bright polyesters, riding camels, taking pictures of each other, haggard, dysenteric, thirsty. There is nothing to think about but the next shapeless event. ↗
However small we are, we should always fight for what we believe to be right. And I don’t mean fight with the power of our fists or the power of our swords…I mean the power of our brains and our thoughts and our dreams. And as small and quiet and unimportant as our fighting may look, perhaps we might all work together…and break out of the prisons of our own making. Perhaps we might be able to keep this fierce and beautiful world of ours as free for all of us as it seemed to be on that blue afternoon of my childhood. ↗
My Testament translated by Michael Mikos I have lived with you, suffered and shed tears with you. No noble person have I ever passed aside. Today I leave you, ghosts in shadows to pursue, And if happiness were here – in sorrow I stride. I have not left behind me a single offspring Either to play my lute or to carry my name ; My name has passed away like a flash of lightning, And will last for generations like an empty strain. But you that have known me, pass to all in legend That I wore out my youth for the land of my fathers ; When the ship struggled – I stood at the mast to the end, And when she was sinking – I too drowned in deep waters... Yet some day, pondering about the destined lot Of my poor homeland, any noble man will consent That my spirit’s cloak was not by begging begot, But as my ancestors’ glories shines resplendent. Let my faithful friends at night gather together And burn up my poor heart in die leaves of aloe, Return it to die one who gave it to me later : So the world pays mothers – giving them ashes to stow... Let my friends sit down, each one holding a goblet, And drown in wine my burial – and their own despair... If I am a spirit, I’ll appear to them yet, If God frees me from torment, I will not come there... But I beg you – let the living not lose hope ever And bear the torch of learning before their compatriots ; And when called, go to their death one after another, Like the stones tossed by the Lord onto the ramparts... As for me – I am leaving a small group of friends, Those who were able to love my haughty spirit ; One can see I have fulfilled God’s hard assignments And assented to have here – an unwept casket... Who else would go on without the world’s accolades, Such indifference to the world as I display ? To be the helmsman of a boat that’s filled with shades, And fly off as quietly as the shade flies away ? And yet I leave behind me this fateful power, Useless while I live... it just graces my temples ; But when I die, it will, unseen, press you ever, Till it remakes you, bread eaters – into angels. Testament mój Żyłem z wami, cierpiałem i płakałem z wami, Nigdy mi, kto szlachetny, nie był obojętny, Dziś was rzucam i dalej idę w cień - z duchami - A jak gdyby tu szczęście było - idę smętny. Nie zostawiłem tutaj żadnego dziedzica Ani dla mojej lutni, ani dla imienia: - Imię moje tak przeszło jak błyskawica I będzie jak dźwięk pusty trwać przez pokolenia. Lecz wy coście mnie znali, w podaniach przekażcie, Żem dla ojczyzny sterał moje lata młode; A póki okręt walczył siedziałem na maszcie, A gdy tonął - z okrętem poszedłem pod wodę... Ale kiedyś - o smętnych losach zadumany Mojej biednej ojczyzny - przyzna kto szlachetny, Że płaszcz na moim duchu był nie wyżebrany, Lecz świetnościami dawnych moich przodków świetny. Niech przyjaciele moi w nocy się zgromadzą I biedne serce moje spalą w aloesie, I tej, która mi dała to serce, oddadzą - Tak się matkom wypłaca świat, gdy proch odniesie... Niech przyjaciele moi siądą przy pucharze I zapiją mój pogrzeb - oraz własną biedę: Jeżeli będę duchem, to się im pokażę, Jeśli Bóg [mię] uwolni od męki - nie przyjdę... Lecz zaklinam - niech żywi nie tracą nadziei I przed narodem niosą oświaty kaganiec; A kiedy trzeba, na śmierć idą po kolei, Jak kamienie przez Boga rzucone na szaniec!... Co do mnie - ja zostawiam maleńką tu drużbę Tych, co mogli pokochać serce moje dumne; Znać, że srogą spełniłem, twardą bożą służbę I zgodziłem się tu mieć - niepłakaną trumnę. Kto drugi bez świata oklasków się zgodzi Iść... taką obojętność, jak ja, mieć dla świata? Być sternikiem duchami niepełnej łodzi, I tak cicho odlecieć, jak duch, gdy odlata? Jednak zostanie po mnie ta siła fatalna, Co mi żywemu na nic... tylko czoło zdobi: Lecz po śmierci was będzie gniotła niewidzialna, Aż was, zjadacze chleba - w aniołów przerobi. ↗
