Civilization is a velvet cell with all the modern electrical conveniences.
While in confinement therein, prisoners can only picture their captivity theoretically, which, if it actually exists, is why they can do so little about it. They must believe that theirs is a more complex life than it actually is, as they are only schooled to count to two. But, they dream of heroes having escaped.
Few prisoners care to hear a prophet not as annoyed as they are. No matter what's being discussed, prisoners think they're being talked about. Prison is a noisy place.
Once a year on the Prison Island, they'd turn the prisoners loose for a day, ... ... but they gave it up since no one ever went anywhere.
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The condemned man, being the true intellectual that he was, asked, for his "Final Request" that something, anything, be shouted just as he was shot. In an adjoining cell was a more physically-based man who, as his "Final Request" simply asked that he be let go. (As trains pass through tunnels, many a passenger will cry out: "Oh conductor! Conductor! Does it always get dark so soon around here?")
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If you do accept the fact that, mentally, man is imprisoned, and then believe he is so for some particular human reason, you've removed yourself one further step from the cell door.
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