Quotes About Escape

Books are the mile markers of my life. Some people have family photos or home movies to record their past. I've got books. Characters. For as long as I can remember, books have been my safe place. I read about places I can barely imagine and lose myself in journeys to foreign lands to save girls who didn't know they were really princesses.

Rain Valley newcomers pretty much fell into two groups: people running away from something and people running away from everything.

Mama could never leave Dad, and Leni would never leave Mama. And Dad could never let them go. In this toxic knot that was their family, there was no escape for any of them.

I knew that man would have a profound and disturbing effect on my life. I was rather frightened of him—because I knew if he came towards me, I wouldn't have the power to run away—though it would probably be better if I did.

Fancy the happiness of Pinocchio on finding himself free! Without saying yes or no, he fled from the city and set out on the road that was to take him back to the house of the lovely Fairy.

It is in order to escape this anxiety that we have imagined the existence of "eternity," a strange world outside of time that we would like to be inhabited by gods, by a God, or by immortal souls.

Heisenberg had understood that you can't locate a particle at a point in space for long: it soon escapes. The smaller the region where we try to locate a particle, the greater the velocity at which it escapes.

For me the greatest joy is to be able to submerge myself for a few hours every day in a human time that otherwise would be alien to me. A lifetime is not enough.

I stepped into the bookshop and breathed in that perfume of paper and magic that strangely no one had ever thought of bottling.

What a relief to be away from the stares of those extraordinary beings!

Los cuentos bonitos siempre hacen perder la noción del tiempo y, gracias a ellos, nos salvamos del agobio de lo práctico.

Yo pensaba que también podía ser heroico escaparse por gusto, sin más, por amor a la libertad y a la alegría—no a la alegría impuesta oficial y mesurada, sino a la carcajada y a la canción que brotan de una fuente cuyas aguas nadie canaliza.

PROLOGUE FRIDAY, APRIL 23 OXFORD, ENGLAND ATHENA RAN BLINDLY down the dark country lane, her breath coming in short, harsh gasps. Her school jacket with the St. Polycarp's logo sewn on the pocket was no protection against the sudden drenching spring rain. The knapsack strapped to her body impeded her flight. It did not occur to her to discard it. As the bewildering shock began to wear off, she desperately told herself she was

Emma says her illness was a kind of self-hypnosis which obliterated the outside world, a way of escaping life and reducing its proportions to what she could manage.

Open a book this minute and start reading. Don't move until you've reached page fifty. Until you've buried your thoughts in print. Cover yourself with words. Wash yourself away. Dissolve.

This is why I read novels: so I can escape my own unrelenting monologue.

What I'd like is a lobotomy, a clean job, the top of my head neatly sawn off and designated contents removed.

I actually thought you would be kind," said the vampire. "Go away!" screamed Devnee. He did not answer. "I didn't have to be kind," Devnee told him. "Victoria was kind for me." He laughed. "No one can be kind for you, my dear," said the vampire. "But I don't mind, of course. I have you now. There's no escape, my dear. You and I, Devnee Fountain, are a team.

A well-composed book is a magic carpet on which we are wafted to a world that we cannot enter in any other way.

the problem with books is that they end. They seduce you. They spread their legs to you and pull you inside. And you go deep and leave your possessions and your ties to the world at the door and you like it inside and you don't want for your possessions or your ties and then, the book evaporates.

This is why people like writing. You visit old friends without having to go on Facebook and see what they're up to and deal with what idiots called FOMO. You make them into what you want them to be, the people they could be if only they were braver, smarter.

They buy these books to get scared because their lives are too easy. How pathetic is that?

This is like the end of The Corrections," I say and the problem with books is that they end. They seduce you. They spread their legs to you and pull you inside. And you go deep and leave your possessions and your ties to the world at the door and you like it inside and you don't want for your possessions or your ties and then, the book evaporates. You turn the page and there is nothing and we are both crying.

They're in their own world, where good things happen, a quarter mile and a million light years away.