Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption

by Stephen King

I’ve still got them, and I take them down every so often and think about what a man can do, if he has time enough and the will to use it, a drop at a time.

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.

Remember that hope is a good thing, Red, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.

It always comes down to just two choices. Get busy living or get busy dying.