Some birds are not meant to be caged,
that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs
too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the
cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part
of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first
place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that
much more drab and empty for their
departure.
S t e p h e n
K i n g
