Quotes About Escape

Claudia knew that she could never pull off the old-fashioned kind of running away. That is, running away in the heat of anger with a knapsack on her pack. She didn't like discomfort; even picnics were untidy and inconvenient: all those insects and the sun melting the icing on the cupcakes. Therefore, she decided that her leaving home would not be just running from somewhere but would be running to somewhere.

for literature had always been a solace for him, something that the ugliness of facts could not spoil.

It so happened that Lucy, who found daily life rather chaotic, entered a more solid world when she opened the piano. She was then no longer either deferential or patronizing; no longer either a rebel or a slave.

The past is devoid of meaning like the present, and a refuge for cowards.

For life is practically a battle. To all intents and purposes a battle. Except for a few lucky fellows who can read books, and so avoid the realities.

Nothing that can stop you retreating into splendour and beauty—into the thoughts and beliefs that make the real life—the real you.

It so happened that Lucy, who found daily life rather chaotic, entered a more solid world when she opened the piano. She was then no longer either deferential or patronizing; no longer either a rebel or a slave. The kingdom of music is not the kingdom of this world; it will accept those whom breeding and intellect and culture have alike rejected.

I must get away, ever so far. I must know my own mind and where I want to go.

How glorious it was! The world of motor-cars and rural Deans receded inimitably. Water, sky, evergreens, a wind— these things not even the seasons can touch, and surely they lie beyond the intrusion of man?

when I don't have anything to read, I feel like a tortoise without a shell or a boat without an anchor. There is nothing to hide under. Nowhere to stop and rest. When I don't have a book, there is nowhere good or interesting to be, there is nobody to care about, nothing to hope for, and nothing to puzzle over. When I do have something to read, it keeps me breathing. It's the reward for all the other things. It's the think to look forward to, the reason for doing my day.

All his life he had managed in such ways to disconnect himself from things which he couldn't escape and which threatened to define him in a way in which he didn't want to be defined, and go on untouched, untouched by things that should have touched him, hurt him, burned him.

A vacation is what you take when you can no longer take what you've been taking.

Can't be part of the rat race when you're one of the rats who knows you're in a cage.

Revenge. That's what he had come for... But it didn't really exist, did it? Just empty regret and bitter heartbreak, wandering the streets. The city around him, white and grey and cold, felt suddenly so small. Hyde had been right about family, there was no escaping it... Even when there was no one left to run from.

And she thinks she is the lucky one because she got to escape

I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.

I am for the woods against the world,But are the woods for me?

You can run, but what are you running from? Your life? You can't run away from your life.

Searching my heart for its true sorrow, This is the thing I find to be: That I am weary of words and people, Sick of the city, wanting the sea

Beyond the wall of the unreal city ... there is another world waiting for you. It is the old true world of the deserts, the mountains, the forests, the islands, the shores, the open plains. Go there. Be there. Walk gently and quietly deep within it.

If I were a millionaire--well, a multimillionaire--I'd buy me an old ferryboat like the Eureka, make a floating home of it. What a grand ballroom, what a place for parties. And when I tired of the social hubbub, I'd weigh anchor and steam away to some romantic hideaway like Richmond, Oakland, or South San Francisco. East San Mateo too might be worth investigating.

Industrial tourism is a threat to the national parks. But the chief victims of the system are the motorized tourists. They are being robbed and robbing themselves. So long as they are unwilling to crawl out of their cars they will not discover the treasures of the national parks and will never escape the stress and turmoil of the urban-suburban complexes which they had hoped, presumably, to leave behind for a while.

We need wilderness whether or not we ever set foot in it. We need a refuge even though we may never need to go there. I may never in my life get to Alaska, for example, but I am grateful that it's there. We need the possibility of escape as surely as we need hope; without it the life of the cities would drive all men into crime or drugs or psychoanalysis.

We need the possibility of escape as surely as we need hope; without it the life of the cities would drive all men into crime or drugs or psychoanalysis.