我不是疯了，我只是有创造性的疯狂。

A picture held us captive. And we could not get outside it, for it lay in our language and language seemed to repeat it to us inexorably.

Freedom was a thing that shifted as you looked at it, the way a forest is dense with trees up close but from outside, from the empty meadow, you see its true limits. Being free had nothing to do with chains or how wide your cage was.