Like 'real', 'free' is only used to rule out the suggestion of some or all of its recognized antitheses. As 'truth' is not a name of a characteristic of assertions, so 'freedom' is not a name for a characteristic of actions, but the name of a dimension in which actions are assessed.
I hope for nothing. I fear nothing. I am free. inscription on Kazantakis's tomb in Heraklion, Greece
I always did my own thing. I'm not an outsider, but I have one foot in and one foot out.
No prison can hold me; no hand or leg irons or steel locks can shackle me. No ropes or chains can keep me from my freedom.
Your freedom when it loses its fetters becomes itself the fetter of a greater freedom.
My mom was a free spirit, and she brought me up to be a free spirit.
I am no bird and no net ensnares me
Basically, I'm a free spirit. I'm kind of an Everywoman.
I will be free, no lover's kiss to bind me to earth, no bliss of love to counteract actual bliss.
I like to think I'm un-categorisable.
Man must get back to himself before he can learn his relation to his fellows. Prometheus chained to the Rock of Ages is doomed to remain the prey of the vultures of darkness. Unbind Prometheus, and you dispel the night and its horrors.
I started to let go and seeing that there are no rules.
Sound unbound by nature becomes bounded by art.
The old wanderlust had gotten into his blood, the joy of the unbound life, the joy of seeking, of hoping without limit.
I'm a nomad.
Every time people try and define me, it gets battered around. I like to keep people guessing.
Free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope, free of mountainous wanting.
Freedom is living without chains.
To hope till hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates.
A person unbound by vows can never be absolutely relied upon.
Freedom can never be true of name and form; it is the clay out of which we (the pots) are made; then it is limited and not free, so that freedom can never be true of the related. One pot can never say "I am free" as a pot; only as it loses all ideas of form does it become free.
The candles burned The moon went down The polished hill The milky town Transparent, weightless, luminous Uncovering the two of us On that fundamental ground Where love's unwilled, unleashed, unbound And half the perfect world is found.
Escape? There is one unwatched way: your eyes. O Beauty! Keep me good that secret gate.
Don't you miss it?" I say. "Being free." He laughs.
Thy words are like a cloud of winged snakes.
