-An excerpt from a letter written by Van Gogh, "I write somewhat at random whatever comes to my pen. I should be very glad if you could see in me something more than an idle fellow. Because there are two kinds of idleness, which are a great contrast to each other. There is the man who is idle from laziness and from lack of character, from the baseness of his nature. If you like you may take me for one. On the other hand, there is the idle man who is idle in spite of himself, who is inwardly consumed by a great longing for action but does nothing, because it is impossible for him to do anything, because he seems to be imprisoned in some cage, because he does not possess what he needs to become productive, because circumstances bring him inevitably to that point. Such a man does not always know what he could do, but he instinctively feels, 'I am good for something; my life has a purpose after all. I know that I could be quite a different man! How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside of me, what can it be?' This is quite a different kind of idle man, if you like, you may take me for such a one! A caged bird in spring knows quite well that he might serve some end; he is well aware that there is something for him to do, but he cannot do it. What is it? He does not quite remember. Then some vague ideas occur to him, and he says to himself 'the others build their nests and lay their eggs and bring up their little ones.' and he knocks his head against the bars of the cage. But the cage remains and the bird is maddened by anguish. Yes the prisoner lives, he does not die; there are no outward signs of what passes within him- his health is good, he is more or less gay when the sun shines. But then the season of migration comes, and attacks of melancholia. "But he has everything he wants", say the children that tend him in his cage. He looks through the bars at the overcast sky where a thunderstorm is gathering, and inwardly he rebels against his fate. " I am caged. I am caged and you tell me I do not want anything. Fools! You think I have everything I need! Oh! I beseech your liberty that I may be a bird like other birds! Do you know what frees one from this captivity? It is every deep, serious affection. Being friends, being brothers, love, that is what opens the prison by some supreme power, by some magic force. Without this, one remains in prison. Where sympathy is renewed, life is restored.