Quotes About Escape

The wicked flee when none pursueth.

You go for a man hard and fast enough and he don't have time to think about how many is with him, he thinks about himself and how he may get clear out of the wrath that is about to set down on him.

There's something intrinsically therapeutic about choosing to spend your time in a wide, open park- like setting that non-golfers can never truly understand.

Reading is like a journey to a new place

We left the flat together. I expected– dreaded– Mrs. Hennessy popping out her door and asking who my young man was. "An escaped murderer, Mrs. Hennessy; my father will be horrified." But she didn't come out her door.

If you ever find yourself coming out of a time machine, run. Run away as fast you can. Don't stop. Don't try to talk. Nothing good can come out of it." narrator Charles Yu, not author Charles Yu p19

Her own bedroom, her own bed. Her own yard. Without a restaurant downstairs, or sirens or cops or dead bodies. No fishy garbage fumes, or flumes of mildewing vegetation, no cacophony of five dialects being smashed together, a solid block of sensory overload rising up the dank central corridor of INT. CHINATOWN SRO.

Toate vapoarele ar trebui s? poarte numele "Panaceu", pentru c? nimic nu te vindec? mai bine decât o c?l?torie pe mare. Problemele tale sunt amânate pentru moment, vaporul te ia în grija lui, iar când ajunge într-un târziu în port, te red? cu tristeÈ›e fr?mânt?rilor lumii.

Great, thought Jack. I'm on marathon walk to London, likely to be ambushed by diseased nutters at any moment and I'm stuck with a load of idiots who sound like they've escaped from the set of In the Night Garden.

Books were a gateway into an alternative universe. They were magic. A book could hold anything inside it.

When she opened her eyes, the outside door was filled with flame. The propane tank by the kitchen could blow any minute. That left the bedroom back window.

Books aren't just books they're a completely different world in the palm of your hands

By dying young, I shall escape great sufferings. I had not qualities or talents to make my way very well in the world: I should have been continually at fault.

Is this what we fled, when we left the ocean? Did we grow legs so we could run away?)

Maybe we could do that whole "my enemy's enemy" thing and skip off into the night, holding hands.

What mental hospital have you escaped from?" She wanted to laugh, but he looked so serious. "Prove you're an alien. Rip off your disguise. Show me your antennae. Where's your union card?

Alone had always felt like an actual place to me, as if it weren't a state of being, but rather a room where I could retreat to be who I really was.

Books] were the world I could lose myself in when the one I was actually living in became too lonely or harsh or difficult to bear.

The thing about hiking the Pacific Coast Trial, the thing that was so profound to me that summer -- and yet also, like many things, so very simple -- was how few choices I had and how often I had to do the thing I least wanted to do. How there was no escape or denial. (69)

The thing about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, the thing that was so profound to me that summer—and yet also, like most things, so very simple—was how few choices I had and how often I had to do the thing I least wanted to do. How there was no escape or denial. No numbing it down with a martini or covering it up with a roll in the hay.

It was good. It was like something inordinately beautiful and out of this world. Like I'd found an actual planet that I didn't know had been there all along. Planet Heroin. The place where there was no pain.

Do you like to read?" Christine asked. "That's what we do when we come up here. That's our idea of relaxation.

I'd loved books in my regular, pre-PCT life, but on the trail, they'd taken on even greater meaning. They were the world I could lose myself in when the one I was actually in became too lonely or harsh or difficult to bear. When

I)t was Lady who saved my mother's life. Lady, who made it possible for her not only to walk away from my father, but also to keep going. Horses were my mother's religion. It was them she wanted to be with all those Sundays as a child, when she'd been made to put on dresses to go to mass.