The only true freedom is living under a bridge and eating other people's trash.

The constitutive deficiency of experience is never filled by the satisfactions and achievements to which we direct our attention. These apparent accomplishments only mask the universal and ubiquitous pain, the dull and continuous grief that seethes beneath all things and unites all things that live. The truth is experienced when the thread of one's illusory pleasures suddenly snaps.

A weight hangs from a hook, and as it hangs it suffers in that it cannot descend: it cannot come off the hook, as it hangs owing to the fact that it is a weight, and its weight is its dependence. We want to satisfy it : we free it from its dependence, we let it go, that it may satisfy its hunger for a lower point and descend independent until it is satisfied with descending. But at each of the points it successively reaches it will never be contented to stop and it still wishes to descend, for the next point is always lower than the one it occupies. And none of the future points will ever be such as to satisfy it, each of them being necessary to its life only as long as a lower point awaits it, but every time, each point, when it is made actual, will become for it devoid of every attraction, no longer being a lower point; so that in each point it feels the want of the lower points and more and more do these attract it. It always has the same hunger for the lower, and its will to descend remains infinite, since, if the will could become finite in any particular point and the weight could there obtain the infinite descent in the infinite future, in that point it would no longer be what it is, a weight. Its life consists in this lacking in life. If it did not want anything but was finite and could possess itself in its perfection it would have ceased to exist. The weight is to itself a hindrance to possessing its life, and it is only because of itself that it is never able to be satisfied. The weight can never be persuaded. And no life is ever sated with living in any present, for it is life only inasmuch as it continues itself, and it continues itself in the future only inasmuch as it lacks living. If it possessed itself fully, now and here, and lacked nothing, if nothing awaited it in the future, it would not continue itself: it would cease to be life.

Man's constant need of something constitutes his essence. Man lives and acts in order to continue to live. He struggles for the possession of that which, once achieved, would change his person and sanction the loss of his individuality.

Only when you want no longer will you have what you want. The only true freedom is living under a bridge and eating other people's trash.