Bob Kerrey Quotes

Outside, you don't hear a single bird, and a deathly, oppressive silence hangs over the house and clings to me as if it were going to drag me into the deepest regions of the underworld.... I wander from room to room, climb up and down the stairs and feel like a songbird whose wings have been ripped off and who keeps hurling itself against the bars of its dark cage.

Free will carried many a soul to hell, but never a soul to heaven.

Hell is indefinite.

It was the darkness that got you. It was heavy darkness, greasy and compelling. It made walls round you, and shut you in so that you felt like you could not breathe.

I am caught like a beast at bay. Somewhere are people, freedom, light, But all I hear is the baying of the pack, There is no way out for me.

The dark covers me and I cannot run now.

All right, then, I thought: here I am in the bottom of a well.

In hell there's a big hotel where the bar just closed and the windows never opened. No phone so you can't call home, and the TV works, but the clicker is broken.

Here then at long last is my darkness. No cry of light, no glimmer, not even the faintest shard of hope to break free across the hold.

I open the door of the cell and go. I am so bowed I only see my feet, if I open my eyes, and between my legs a little trail of black dust. I say to myself that the earth is extinguished, though I never saw it lit.

No longer will you be a weird Robinson Crusoe, imprisoned on an island of night surrounded by oceans of death.

Here is a hall without exit, a tunnel without end.

Darkness got you like Shelob gor Frodo, only worse.

I say my hell is the closet I'm stuck inside.

There's not even room enough to be anywhere/It's not dark yet, but it's getting there.../I was born here and I'll die here against my will/I know it looks like I'm moving, but I'm standing still.

But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?

They held each other and wept as the night closed its fist around their tiny shelter, and the world below them seethed with killers both living and dead.

None of you understand. I'm not locked up in here with YOU. You're locked up in here with ME.

...she could only wait for someone, something, to free her from the invisible chains that bound her.

I am a poem. There is no way out.

The Truth is in the prolouge. Death to the romantic fool., the expert in solitary confinement.

The human heart cries out for help; the human soul implores us for deliverance; but we do not heed their cries, for we neither hear nor understand. But the man who hears and understands we call mad, and flee from him. Thus the nights pass, and we live in unawareness; and the days greet us and embrace us. But we live in constant dread of day and night.

Oh, Jacques, we're used to each other, we're a pair of captive hawks caught in the same cage, and so we've grown used to each other. That's what passes for love at this dim, shadowy end of the Camino Real.