Admit it, it is your youth that you regret, more even than your crime; it is my youth you hate, even more than my innocence. - Jean-Paul Sartre

No era el aire miserable de aquel tipo lo que nos daba miedo, ni el tumor que tenía en el pescuezo y que el borde del cuello postizo rozaba; sentíamos que elaboraba en su cabeza pensamientos de cangrejo o langosta. Y nos aterrorizaba que pudieran concebirse pensamientos de langosta...

I’ve dropped out of their hearts like a little sparrow fallen from its nest. So gather me up, dear, fold me to your heart – and you’ll see how nice I can be.

Freedom is what we do with what is done to us.