Jump off. You are a protected individual. Do not fear.
Henry MillerRead
Great God! What have I turned into? What right have you people to clutter up my life, steal my time, probe my soul, suckle my thoughts, have me for your companion, confidant, and information bureau? What do you take me for? Am I an entertainer on salary, required every evening to play an intellectual farce under your stupid noses? Am I a slave, bought and paid for, to crawl on my belly in front of you idlers and lay at your feet all that I do and all that I know?
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote highlights the struggle of an individual who feels overwhelmed by societal expectations and the demands placed on them by others.
Henry Miller's quote expresses a deep frustration with the way society often exploits individuals, treating them as mere sources of entertainment or information rather than valuing them as whole beings. The speaker feels a loss of autonomy, questioning their worth and identity in a world where they are expected to serve the desires of others without regard for their own needs or feelings. This powerful reflection invites the reader to consider the importance of self-worth and the impact of societal pressures on personal identity.
Themes
IdentitySocietyIndividualityAutonomyFrustration
In practice
Example use cases
This quote can be used in a discussion about the pressures of social media influencers on mental health.
More from Henry Miller
All quotes βI saw through to the last sign and symbol, but I could not read her face. I could see only the eyes shining through, huge, fleshy-like luminous beasts, as though I were swimming behind them in the electric effluvia of her incandescent vision.
Henry MillerRead
The essential thing is to WANT to sing. This then is a song. I am singing.
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We are swimming on the face of time and all else has drowned, is drowning, or will drown.
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To sing you must first open your mouth. You must have a pair of lungs, and a little knowledge of music. It is not necessary to have an accordion, or a guitar. The essential thing is to want to sing. This then is a song. I am singing.
Henry MillerRead
What are our conductors giving us year after year? Only fresh corpses. Over these beautifully embalmed sonatas, toccatas, symphonies and operas the public dance the jitterbug. Night and day without let the radio drowns us in a hog-wash of the most nauseating, sentimental ditties. From the churches comes the melancholy dirge of the dead Christ, a music which is no more sacred than a rotten turnip.
Henry MillerRead
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