“Count how many stars linger in the universe. Their endlessness is freedom. What humans want, are shackles. What humans want, is purpose. Purpose is the wall placed before the one who is free. We would reside in continued tedium, were freedom to be all to consume.
Love is a shackle. Love is a confinement. Love is a burden, a stretch, a chore, to keep maintained, as though one’s life depends on that, and just that. To count the stars, makes a human dwell in tedium. To count the individual grass-blades on the soil in a meadow, makes a human dwell in tedium. It is freedom.
In fact, it is not that. Freedom, at its very essence, is just the one in suspended animation, seeing dreams, and never reality.”