Why?
Why indeed?
There's the maddening, mysterious question.

Why don't I fly out again?
There's the window or the door or whatever it was I came in by.

It's not hopelessly shut--is it?
Why don't I find it and be off?
Answer me that, little sister." But he gave her no time to answer.
"I'm exactly like that insect again.

For some reason"-- Jonathan paused between the words--"it's not allowed, it's forbidden, it's against the insect law, to stop banging and flopping and crawling up the pane even for an instant.

Why don't I leave the office?
Why don't I seriously consider, this moment, for instance, what it is that prevents me leaving?
It's not as though I'm tremendously tied.