You know what’s wrong with you, Miss Whoever-You-Are? You’re chicken, you’ve got no guts. You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing, and you’re terrified somebody’s going to stick you in a cage. Well, baby, you’re already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it’s not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somaliland. It’s wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.
-Breakfast at Tiffany’s