Thought on Freedom

"In the autumn stillness, when the chill, sullen mist that hangs over the earth weighs upon the heart, when it looms like a prison wall before the eyes, and bears witness to the limited scope of mans will, it is sweet to think of broad, swift rivers, with steep banks open to the sky, of impenetrable forests, of boundless plains. Slowly and tranquilly imagination conjures up the picture of a man, early in the morning, before the flush of dawn has left the sky, making his way along the steep, lonely bank, looking like a tiny speck: age old pines, fit for ships masts, rise up in terraces on both sides of the torrent, gaze sternly at the free man and murmuer manacingly; roots, huge boulders, and throrny bushes bar his way, but he is strong in body and bold in spirit, and fears neaither the pine trees nor the boulders, nor his solitude, nor the reverberant echo that repeats the sound if his every footstep.

[They] picture to themselves a free life such as they have never lived; whether they vaguely remember scenes from from stories heard long ago or whether they have inherited notions of a free life from remote free ancestors with their flesh and blood, God alone knows!"

Anton Chekhov Daydreams