#freedom-quotes

[thepersonalwords]

Love sets you free the moment it arrests you.

Matshona Dhliwayo

[quotelr]

The feeling of freedom and scent of sea air are intoxicating. As the wind picks up, I gain speed, holding on to life with a capital L

Laurie Nadel

[cinematicjourney]

Gaza Fights for Freedom (2019) | dir. Abby Martin

[feral-ballad]

Alejandra Pizarnik, tr. by Yvette Siegert, from The Most Foreign Country; “I am…”

[Text ID: “my wings? / two rotting petals”]

[vintage-tigre]

[selfhealingmoments]

[abstractfrog]

SILVER BLAZE PART THREE - happy jonkday everyone. one of these days i'll draw a scene that doesn't take place at night

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

[beaulesbian]

"The world should have protected you, but you have been asked to protect it. What an honor. What an injustice." - NADDPOD, Bahumia campaign ep. 97 (x)

[philosophybits]

We are all unused to living, we are all crippled, each one of us more or less. We are so unused to it that we straight away feel some kind of loathing towards real ‘lively life’ and so we cannot stand it when we are reminded of it. We have indeed reached such a point that we almost consider real ‘lively life’ to be labour, almost like service, and we are all agreed among ourselves that it is better left in books.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground

[paninicupcakke]

Good ol shitpost special!

[thepersonalwords]

Anyone can conquer anything, but the conquest of self frees the ego, and rewards one with limitless boundaries

Val Uchendu

[thelasthippie]

[pratchettquotes]

Flames died. Sound died. Light died.

ANGHAMMARAD.

Anghammarad looked at his hands. There was nothing there except heat, furnace heat, blasting heat that nevertheless made the shapes of fingers.

ANGHAMMARAD, a hollow voice repeated.

"I Have Lost My Clay," said the golem.

YES, said Death. THAT IS STANDARD. YOU ARE DEAD. SMASHED. EXPLODED INTO A MILLION PIECES.

"Then Who Is This Doing The Listening?"

EVERYTHING THERE WAS ABOUT YOU THAT ISN'T CLAY.

"Do You Have A Command For Me?" said the remains of Anghammarad, standing up.

NOT NOW. YOU HAVE REACHED THE PLACE WHERE THERE ARE NO MORE ORDERS.

"What Shall I Do?"

I BELIEVE YOU HAVE FAILED TO UNDERSTAND MY LAST COMMENT.

Anghammarad sat down again. Apart from the fact that there was sand rather than ooze underfoot, this place reminded him of the abyssal plane.

GENERALLY PEOPLE LIKE TO MOVE ON, Death hinted. THEY LOOK FORWARD TO AN AFTERLIFE.

"I Will Stay Here, Please."

HERE? THERE'S NOTHING TO DO HERE, said Death.

"Yes, I Know," said the ghost of the golem. "It Is Perfect. I Am Free."

Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

[feral-ballad]

Esmail Khoi, tr. by Niloufar Talebi, from Belonging: New Poetry by Iranians Around the World; "Losing"

[Text ID: “My space / Was too tight / For me. / I wanted to / Rise out if myself”]

[positivelypositivethoughts]