Quotes About Escape

I lived within the cover of books and those books were more real to me than any other thing in my life.

It turned out that when my younger self thought of taking wing, she wanted only to let her spirit soar. Books are the plane, the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey. They are home.

Crusoe and Friday. Ishmael and Ahab. Daisy and Gatsby. Pip and Estella. Me. Me. Me. I am not alone. I am surrounded by words that tell me who I am, why I feel what I feel. Or maybe they just help me while away the hours as the rain pounds down on the porch roof, taking me away from the gloom and on to somewhere sunny, somewhere else.

We read in bed because reading is halfway between life and dreaming, our own consciousness in someone else's mind.

My home was in that pleasant place outside Philadelphia, but I really lived somewhere else. I lived within the covers of books and those books were more real to me than any other thing in my life.

We read in bed because reading is halfway between life and dreaming

She wants to be someone else, somewhere else, and I can't blame her.

I had enough of real life everyday to last me forever.

Nothing had happened yet in my life except the need to get out of it.

You go from the north of Laos and then you go across the Mekong, and when the Pathet Lao soldiers fire, you do not think about your family, just yourself only. When you are on the other side, you will not be like what you were before ou get through the Mekong. On the other side you cannot say to your wife, I love you more than my life. She saw! You cannot say that anymore! And when you try to restick this thing together is is like putting glue on a broken glass.

Leave me alone, let me have at least one night when I don't cry myself to sleep with eyes burning and my head pounding. Let me get away, away from everything, away from this world!

We just wanted to get out of there, to get away and reach our destination in safety. Nothing else mattered.

Ordinary people don't know how much books can mean to someone who's cooped up.

She's also the one who brings five library books with her every Saturday. We long for Saturdays because that means books. We're like a bunch of little kids with a present. Ordinary people don't know how much books can mean to someone who's cooped up. Our only diversions are reading, studying and listening to the radio.

The house shook and the bombs kept falling. I was clutching my "escape bag," more because I wanted to have something to hold on to than because I wanted to run away.

Let me get away, away from everything, away from this world.

No matter how people mess with you or let you down, or how you let yourself down, a good book means that when you get in bed that night, you have a good hour. I feel like you pay all day for that hour. That's what books mean to me. I can open this two-dimensional, flat white page with squiggly little black marks on them, and someone has created this world that you're going to enter into ...

In a library, you can find small miracles and truth, and you might find something that will make you laugh so hard that you will get shushed, in the friendliest way. I have found sanctuary in libraries my whole life, and there is sanctuary there now, from the war, from the storms of our families and our own minds. Libraries are like mountains or meadows or creeks: sacred space. So this afternoon, I'll walk to the library.

For some of us, good books and beautiful writing are our ultimate solace, even more comforting than exquisite food.

For some of us books are as important as almost anything else on earth. What a miracle it is that out of these small flat rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world worlds that sing to you comfort and quiet or excite you." — Anne Lamott

I read more than other kids; I luxuriated in books. Books were my refuge.

Because for some of us, books are as important as almost anything else on earth. What a miracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and quiet or excite you.

W]hen you're dreaming, you're not the one calling the shots. So it's a reprieve.

Books! To fling myself into a book, to be carried away to another world while being at my most grounded, on my butt or in my bed or favorite chair, is a literally how I have survived being here at all. Someone else is doing the living for me, and all I have to do is let their stories, humor, knowledge, and images – some of which I'll never forget – flow through me, even as I forget to turn off the car when I arrive at my destination.