The demand of the loveless and the self-imprisoned that they should be allowed to blackmail the universe: that till they consent to be happy (on their own terms) no one else shall taste joy: that theirs should be the final power; that Hell should be able to veto Heaven.
The true Resurrection is based not on the mythical lie of the guilty victim who deserves to die, but on the rectification of that lie, which comes from the true God and which reopens channels of communication mankind itself had closed through self-imprisonment in its own violent cultures.
I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all?
Why lock yourself in your own cage when someone is handing you a key?
We are all living in cages with the door wide open.
When we begin to build walls of prejudice, hatred, pride, and self-indulgence around ourselves, we are more surely imprisoned than any prisoner behind concrete walls and iron bars.
A prison does not only lock its inmates inside, it keeps all others out. Her strongest prison is of her own construction.
Build a cell inside your mind, from which you can never flee.
How prone poor Humanity is to dam up the minutest remnants of its freedom, and build an artificial roof to prevent it looking up to the clear blue sky.
There is only one decision you need to make: You are either working at your Freedom or you are accepting your bondage.
Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul.
Most people spend their entire life imprisoned within the confines of their own thoughts. They never go beyond a narrow, mind-made, personalized sense of self that is conditioned by the past.
Everyone sits in the prison of his own ideas; he must burst it open, and that in his youth, and so try to test his ideas on reality.
Ye have locked yerselves up in cages of fear and, behold, do ye now complain that ye lack FREEDOM!
The deep problem facing everyone is how to break free when being a prisoner is the only comfortable way you know how to live.
The prison of lust is just that very one of which the soul shuts the doors upon herself; for each act of indulgence is the shooting of a fresh bolt.
We are all serving a life sentence in the dungeon of the self.
If I maintain my silence about my secret it is my prisoner...if I let it slip from my tongue, I am ITS prisoner.
Yet there were times when he did love her with all the kindness she demanded, and how was she to know what were those times? Alone she raged against his cheerfulness and put herself at the mercy of her own love and longed to be free of it because it made her less than he and dependent on him. But how could she be free of chains she had put upon herself? Her soul was all tempest. The dreams she had once had of her life were dead. She was in prison in the house. And yet who was her jailer except herself?
you parrot negative things and squawk about the things you don't love, you are literally jailing yourself, like a parrot in a cage. Every time you talk about what you don't love, you are adding another bar to the cage and you are locking yourself away from all the good.
Each man is his own prisoner, in solitary confinement for life.
It's about realizing, painfully, you've kept that voice inside yourself, locked away from even yourself. And you step back and see that your jailer has changed faces. You realize you've become your own jailer.
I am well protected Too locked up Inside myself To get free
I am locked into the mirror and there is no door out.
She did not shut it properly because she knew that it is very silly to shut oneself into a wardrobe, even if it is not a magic one.
