Quotes About Escape

Every day I ran to that book like it was a bottle of whiskey and crawled inside because it was a world that I had at least some control over, and slowly, in time, it began to take shape.

But really I wanted to burn these childhood artifacts, because the lines -meant for escape- served as a reminder instead. I wanted to burn my memories.

What are you doing in there, Camicazi? I told you to escape! And how did you know this was my sand yacht? You wrote 'The Hopeful Puffin 2' on the back of it, explained the basket, adding hastily, and I don't know what you're talking about. I've never heard of this Cami-whatsit.

Kind of. White guy, maybe in his thirties, really big. Driving an old brown Toyota. The cops are after him now.

Where do you want to go, my heart? Anywhere - anywhere, out of this world.

curled up, closed his eyes, and marched himself off, as if sleep were an actual place, like home, like the kitchen—a place a mouse could go to.

While thoughts exist, words are alive and literature becomes an escape, not from, but into living.

While thought exists, words are alive and literature becomes an escape, not from, but into living. Cyril Connolly (English critic and editor, 1903-1974)

That's the place to get to—nowhere. One wants to wander away from the world's somewheres, into our own nowhere.

Men are free when they are obeying some deep, inward voice of religious belief. Obeying from within. Men are free when they belong to a living, organic, believing community, active in fulfilling some unfulfilled, perhaps unrealized purpose. Not when they are escaping to some wild west. The most unfree souls go west, and shout of freedom.

Couldn't one go right away, to the far ends of the earth, and be free from it all? One could not. The far ends of the earth are not five minutes from Charing Cross. nowadays. While the wireless is active, there are no far ends of the earth.

Mr Hemingway does it extremely well. Nothing matters. Everything happens. One wants to keep oneself loose. Avoid one thing only: gettng connected up. Don't get connected up. If you get held by anything, break it. Don't be held. Break it, and get away. Don't get away with the idea of getting somewhere else. Just get away, for the sake of getting away. Beat it! "Well, boy, I guess I'll beat it." Ah, the pleasure in saying that

When we get out of the glass bottle of our ego and when we escape like the squirrels in the cage of our personality and get into the forest again, we shall shiver with cold and fright. But things will happen to us so that we don't know ourselves. Cool, unlying life will rush in

Emily had at last found her place, and had escaped from the torture of strange, complex modern life.

The rabbit presses back her ears, Turns back her liquid, anguished eyes And crouches low: then with wild spring Spurts from the terror of his oncoming To be choked back, the wire ring Her frantic effort throttling: Piteous brown ball of quivering fears!

This Midwestern sky is the nakedest loneliest sky in America. To escape it, people live inside and underground.

Unlike him I had been unable to escape into the simple complexities of science. All he had to do was solve the mystery of the universe, which may be difficult but is not as difficult as living an ordinary life...(How happy scientists are! Why didn't we become scientists, Percival? They confront problems which can be solved. We don't know what we confront. Does it have a name?)

I got on my bike and drove, fast and recklessly. The humid air pushed thick against my face; if a child had walked in front of my path, I might have killed it. I sped past Jeanette's street and past the Treetop Acres sign and onto Route 118. I squeezed the rubber handlebar caps, squeezed the shaking out of myself. I hated both of them. The harder I pedaled—the more I risked—the better it felt.

Our taverns and our metropolitan streets, our offices and furnished rooms, our railroad stations and our factories appeared to have us locked up hopelessly. Then came the film and burst this prison-world asunder by the dynamite of the tenth of a second, so that now, in the midst of its far-clung ruins and debris, we calmly and adventurously go traveling.

Tekst jest kniej?, czytelnik - my?liwym. Szelest w zaro?lach: my?l ucieka, p?ochliwa dziczyzna. Cytat jest rozb?yskiem.

Nothing sounds better than being away from this mess. Nothing sounds better right now than getting higher than the hole I'm in.

One of the strongest motives that leads men to art and science is escape from everyday life with its painful crudity and hopeless dreariness. Such men make this cosmos and its construction the pivot of their emotional life, in order to find the peace and security which they cannot find in the narrow whirlpool of personal experience.

Insert quarter, avoid Klingons.

Recréese en la fantasía.