I noticed some scratch marks and faded blood stains high up on a wall. “What happened there?
My head is a prison I’ve been locked in from the start,
So if I’m treated like a criminal I might as well play the part.
(attrib: E. Tancarville)
IN OUR CELLS
They keep us in our cells
For a long time…
And, if we get out,
We lug them with us on our shoulders,
Like a porter with a chest of goods.
When people become prisoners of daily habits and happen to be hostages of choices, which they made in the past, but which they finally do not actually want, they experience the need to abandon their corporeal prison at a certain time in life. ( “Corporeal prison” )
Oh my eye Betty Martin! Aren’t I glad it isn’t me that’s going to school! It looks just like a prison.
We should never forget that everything Adolph Hitler did in Germany was “legal” and everything the Hungarian freedom fighers did in Hungary was “illegal.” It was “illegal” to aid and comfort a Jew in Hitler’s Germany.
Don’t tell me what to do – you have eight numbers after your name just like me.
Don’t condemn me to the prison of your bullshit.
I wont stop working until my name become a Verb.
They were the prisoners hidden in different cages, and yet they saw each other every day. He named her fire and she named him the wind, the day they both touched and embraced each other they burnt down everything that stood in their way.