Quotes About Escape

being alone you decided, was a magnificent miracle. nothing else made any sense at all. —escape

no concept of danger, reality, flow or compassion. you can feel the despair escaping from their machines, their lives as hopeless and as numbed as yours.

Of course, you leave afterwards or get very drunk which is the same thing.

When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn't have you by the throat.

Something else is hurting you. That's why you need pot or whiskey, or whips or rubber suits, or screaming music turned so fucking loud you can't think.

I just wanted to get away from them. But there was no place to go. Suicide? Jesus Christ, just more work. I felt like sleeping for five years but they wouldn't let me.

What I wanted was a cave in Colorado with three-years' worth of foodstuffs and drink. I'd wipe my ass with sand. Anything, anything to stop drowning in this dull, trivial and cowardly existence.

the bar was the best place to hide in. time came under your control, time to wade in, time to do nothing in. no guru was needed, no god. nothing expected but yourself and nothing lost to the unexpected.

but when I see those lovely old boxcars with their faded painted lettering and those flat cars and those fat round tankers all lined up and waiting I get quiet inside I get what other men get from other things I just feel better and it's good to feel better whenever you can not needing a reason.

we were never meant to be what we are or where we are, we are looking for an escape, some music from the sun, the girl we never found. we are betting on the miracle again there before the purple mountains as the horses parade past so much more beautiful than our lives.

Something else is hurting you – that's why you need pot or whiskey, or whips and rubber suits, or screaming music turned so fucking loud you can't think.

La inmensa mayoría de la gente estaba loca. Y los que no estaban locos estaban furiosos. Y los que no estaban locos ni furiosos eran idiotas. No tenía escapatoria.

It was con; my mind was blank; I only wanted a halfpint of Grandad and six or seven tall cool beers . . .

I felt terrible. The poor had a right to fuck their way through their bad dreams. Sex and drink, and maybe love, was all they had.

I didn't know what I wanted. Yes, I did. I wanted someplace to hide out, someplace where one didn't have to do anything.

Beynime bir soluk hava çekebilmek için savaÅŸmaktan b?kt?m. Y?llarca insanlardan kaçmam?n nedeni bu, ve onlarla görüÅŸmeye baÅŸlad???mdan beri inime dönme zaman?n?n geldiÄŸini hissediyorum.

So I drank every night after work, alone, up at my place and I had enough left for a day at the track on Saturday, and life was simple and without too much pain. Maybe without too much reason, but getting away from pain was reasonable enough.

A mí cada vez que alguien me hablaba me entraban ganas de tirarme por la ventana o de escapar en el ascensor. La gente, simplemente, no me resultaba interesante. Quizá no tenía por qué serlo. Pero los animales, los pájaros, incluso los insectos lo eran. No podía entenderlo.

They had temporarily escaped the factories, the warehouses, the slaughterhouses, the car washes—they'd be back in captivity the next day but now they were out—they were wild with freedom. They weren't thinking about the slavery of poverty. Or the slavery of welfare and food stamps.

a good book can make an almost impossible existence, liveable for the reader and the writer.

Something else is hurting you - that's why you need pot or whiskey, or screaming music turned so fucking loud you can't think

how to do it" will never create an Art, it will never shake the old skin, it will never get us out of here.

and each temporary escape has a permanent price. neither drink nor love will see you through.

Ä°nsanlar?n yan?nda mutlu deÄŸilim, yeterince içersem kayboluyorlar.