" It's my one chance, and you, Electra—surely you won't refuse it to me? Try to understand. I want to be a man who belongs to some place, a man among comrades Only consider. Even the slave bent beneath his load, drop ping with fatigue and staring dully at the ground a foot in front of him—why, even that poor slave can say he's in his town, as a tree is in a forest, or a leaf upon the tree. Argos is all around him, warm, compact, and comforting. Yes, Electra, I'd gladly be that slave and enjoy that feeling of drawing the city round me like a blanket and curling myself up in it. No, I shall not go. "

― Jean-Paul Sartre , No Exit and Three Other Plays