Quotes About Escape

It was because it was so full of white wings that Fairhaven was such a happy place; wings of the yachts, of the seagulls, and of the swans . . . . White wings are for ever happy, symbols of escape and ascent, of peace and of joy, and a spot of earth about which they beat is secure of its happiness.

If the retreat house was a trap, it was a very nice one.

Reading is a discount ticket to everywhere.

Sex on a rainy afternoon is like getting all the gloom and wetness to go away for a while. And afterwards you don't even notice if the rain's still falling.

Ganz allgemein sind mir Bücher inzwischen lieber als Menschen und Menschen in Büchern lieber als Menschen, die woanders sind.

I remembered how it had been first learning to read, how the squiggles of print finally organized themselves slowly and painfully into words, then pieced together into sentences with meaning. Now, for the first time, the squiggles were releasing actual worlds... All of them surfacing from the page so real that when I finally closed my eyes, I was amazed their lives didn't continue around me. A whole world somehow tucked back into the book, waiting for me to set it free.

It was an endless, consuming nightmare that she escaped only in madness. And then the escape was not complete. Part of her knew, always.

Put him in there and chain him up," he ordered curtly. "Yes, that chain, you fool - do you see any other chain in that cell? Peaceable Sherwood? I'm tired of hearing about Peaceable Sherwood! Turn him loose in the cell for the night. - Which one of you said 'Where'll he be by morning?' Where does he look like he's going to be by morning, I ask you - a hundred and fifty miles away?" I was, to be exact, only seven and a half miles away by morning...

All she really wanted was to go to her apartment, to her bedroom, to the back of her walk-in closet, to sit among the shoes.

I love books. I like that the moment you open one and sink into it you can escape from the world, into a story that's way more interesting that yours will ever be.

There's no good way to die, you know? No way I've seen, anyway. It all ends with tubes and bedpans and IVs and I just-- smoking gets me out of there. Gets me outside, gets me away from all the--" "Sick people?" I say, and she shakes her head. "Away from my life.

I love books. I love that moment when you can open one and sink into it. You can escape from the world, into a story that's way more interesting than yours will ever be.

I could run, but he would find me. He would take me back to 623 Daisy Lane and make everyone who lives there pay. He would make everyone there pay even if he didn't find me. I belong to him. I'm his little girl. All I have to do is be good.

i love books. i love that moment when you open one and sink into it. you can escape from the world, into a story thats way more interesting than yours will ever be.

I love books! I love that moment when you open one and sink into it you can escape from the world,into a story that's way more interesting than yours ever will be

How can I be kind? How can I find bird-relief in the nest-building of day-to-day? Necessity supplies no velvet wing with which to escape. I am indeed and mortally pierced with the seeds of love.

That happens in hotel rooms, people have bad dreams.

Maybe that means "letting them get away with it" -- but maybe it also means letting *you* get away *from* it.

Reading is sometimes an ingenious device for avoiding thought.

That night, on May 26, 1328, Ockham, Cesena, and another Franciscan companion slipped out of their rooms, mounted horses, and lit out of Avignon for the border. The trio did not stop until they crossed into Bavaria, where the Holy Roman Emperor Ludwig IV was engaged in his own dispute with the pope. They met in Munich, where according to legend William of Ockham said to the emperor, "Defend me with your sword, and I will defend you with my pen." Ludwig accepted the

What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.

True life is elsewhere

Mais, vrai, j'ai trop pleuré ! Les Aubes sont navrantes. Toute lune est atroce et tout soliel amer: L'âcre amour m'a gonflé de torpeurs enivrantes. Ô que ma quille éclate ! Ô que j'aille à la mer!

True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.