Quotes About Escape

The nicest thing for me is sleep, then at least I can dream.

She could see it surprised him, too, sometimes. He told her once when there was a storm a bird had flown into the house. He'd never seen one like it. The wind must have carried it in from some far-off place. He opened all the doors and windows, but it was so desperate to escape that for a while it couldn't find a way out. "It left a blessing in the house," he said. "The wildness of it. Bringing the wind inside.

Your mother goes to the public library, which has been down on its luck for a long time, like most things around here. Last time she brought back a copy of The Trail of the Lonesome Pine that was worn ragged, all held together with tape. She just sank into it, though, she just melted into it.

The seductive invitation of metamorphosis - of turning into something other — has continued to suffuse fantasies of identity; on the one hand holding out a way of escape from humanity, on the other annihilating the self.

The forest is where you are when your surroundings are not mastered.

Tell the truth, all Sicilians prefer smelling the shit of their villages to the best perfumes in Paris. What am I doing here? I could have escaped to Brazil like some others. Ah, we love where we are born, we Sicilians, but Sicily does not love us.

Writing, like gambling, was always a big part of my life," he used to say. "Both gave me sanctuary from the world. And you never really had to kill someone to get what you wanted. You just had to beat fate.

Drugs kept people alive in a realm of dreams and hope.

Nostalgia is cowardice

Era un refugio huir allí: la vida espléndida de la ficción daba fuerzas para soportar la vida verdadera. Pero la riqueza de la literatura hacía también que la realidad real se empobreciera.

cuando decidió no emigrar y quedarse aquí, en Lima la Horrible, convencido de que podría organizar su vida de manera que, aunque por razones de trabajo alimenticio tuviera que pasar muchas horas del día sumido en el mundanal ruido de los peruanos de clase alta, viviría de verdad en ese enclave puro, bello, elevado, hecho de cosas sublimes, que él se fabricaría como alternativa a la coyunda cotidiana.

No era el deseo de aprender, de triunfar, lo que te confinaba en la biblioteca, sino de marearte, intoxicarte, perderte en esas materias —ciencias o letras, daba igual— para no pensar, para ahuyentar los recuerdos dominicanos. —Pero

It's wonderful to get lost in a piece of music, she'd said. To forget your name for a while.

No matter what time of day or amount of work to be done, someone with Tahiti could close his eyes and the reality of moody lawnmowers, scruffy lawns, threats of termination of employment would recede and in seconds he'd simply be in Tahiti, stark naked and drinking from a coconut, aware only of the percussion of the wind and girlish sighs of the ocean. (Few

Que sont les fantasmes ? Des rêves dont nous nous servons pour nous préserver de la réalité. Notre monde est un plancher rigide qui nous casse le dos si on dort à même le sol.

Into that empty form they could unload the grief and regret of their own lives, be rid of it, feel lucky and light for a few days, comforted by the thought, At least that wasn't me.

Some stories you should run from while you still have legs.

Kupenda KWAME ALEXANDER I have never been a slave Yet, I know I am whipped I have never escaped underground Yet, the night knows my journey I have never been to Canada Yet I've crossed your border If I were a poet in love I'd say that with you I have found that new place Where romance is just a beginning And freedom is our end.

Where are you going on vacation?" "Nowhere. I'm going to read. I love reading.

Love, I think, is a gateway to the world, not an escape from it.

Making one's life into a meditation is different from using meditation to escape from life.

He really did not care whether he survived or not, so long as it rendered him unconscious and absolved him of responsibility.

I took the little radio from the kitchen and I went and sat in the spare room and I tuned it halfway between two stations so that all I could hear was white noise and I turned the volume up really loud and I held it against my ear and the sound filled my head and it hurt so that I couldn't feel any other sort of hurt, like the hurt in my chest

And maybe Bob-with-the-Hawaiian-shirt was right. Maybe it was cool being on a planet on the far side of the known galaxy. And maybe it was even cooler escaping and getting home again. But the coolest thing of all was having my best friend back.