Without freedom, no art; art lives only on the restraints it imposes on itself, and dies of all others.
Albert Camus
As chalk is my
judge! And didn't she up in sorgues and go and trot doon and
stand in her douro, puffing her old dudheen, and every shirvant
siligirl or wensum farmerette walking the pilend roads, Sawy,
Fundally, Daery or Maery, Milucre, Awny or Graw, usedn't she
make her a simp or sign to slip inside by the sullyport?
James Joyce Finnegans Wake
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