Quotes About Escape

The books in Mo and Meggie's house were stacked under tables, on chairs, in the corners of the rooms. There where books in the kitchen and books in the lavatory. Books on the TV set and in the closet, small piles of books, tall piles of books, books thick and thin, books old and new. They welcomed Meggie down to breakfast with invitingly opened pages; they kept boredom at bay when the weather was bad. And sometimes you fall over them.

She was ready to be a fugitive with him for the rest of her life - 'Whither thou goest, I will go; thy people shall be my people' - and when a Parisienne is ready to leave Paris behind forever, that's something. ("I'm Dangerous Tonight")

I didn't look over my shoulder; there wasn't a sound behind me on the pavement, but I knew he was coming slowly after me. The crawl of the skin up and down my back told me. Little needles of warning that gathered at the back of my skull told me. I'd never known until then that the jungles aren't so very far behind us, after all, and tails, and four feet instead of two. Where else did those symptoms come from? ("Don't Wait Up For Me, Tonight")

Something deep within him, what it was he had no leisure nor skill to recognize, seemed to retreat down long dim corridors away from the doom that impeded. He hadn't known he had those convenient corridors of evasion in him, with their protective turns and angles by which to put distance between himself and menace. Oh clever architect of the Mind, oh merciful blueprints that made such emergency exits available.

Take it easy," he jeered, "relax. I used to be a sailor. You'll never get out of them knots, buddy.

She didn't want to make anything right. She wanted to make it all go away.

Hotel rooms have an aphrodisiac quality.

But one jailer had heard that Houdini was coming, and the jailer was ready. When Houdini closed the cell door, the jailer put the key in the lock and secretly turned it in the wrong direction. He then removed the key, and everyone watched as Houdini struggled to escape—by unknowingly locking himself in repeatedly. Finally, in frustration, Houdini admitted he could not escape. The jailer then revealed his deception. Houdini had believed a lie, and the lie had held him captive.

God promises you a way out. Find that way out, and take it.

I was brought up on a ranch but, because of my father, the romance of guns had somehow escaped me. In his eyes, a gun was a tool, not some half-assed deity. Guys who named their guns worried him and me. I

That was the beauty of horse stealing, though—you could always ride your stolen property.

I watched as the silver Mercedes without snow tires made its way up Fetterman taking a right on Aspen and thought about a man who had escaped the concentration camps and now drove a German car. The Hun be damned.     I

Lucian spoke. "Isaac, I gotta get out of here." He gestured toward me. "The current sheriff and full-time layabout and his redskin sidekick need my help.

We followed him to the cut bank of the river and watched as the underside of his truck suddenly became visible. The jump didn't get very far and, as anticipated, the wheels and most of the front of the Toyota sank into the soft mud of the Powder River effectively ending the vehicular portion of George's getaway.

Love doesn't hurt, and won't fade away with the memory either. There's no right or wrong, no past, no future. Just beauty, noticed on the inside, thanks to the ones we care for the most. Encouragement, to dedicate yourself and protect. So join the dance, attach and then let go if you need to. Ain't no escape, it always finds a way to touch you deep inside, because love is part of who you are.

I wish I could live underwater. Maybe then my skin would absorb the sea's consoling silence.

At first, you just want to live. To escape. That's all that matters.

Reading is an escape, an education, a delving into the brain of another human being on such an intimate level that every nuance of thought, every snapping of synapse, every slippery desire of the author is laid open before you like, well, a book.

If you want to get away from someone, check your watch and say, "Sorry, gotta go!

Seize the day and get lost in a great book.

No city should be too large for a man to walk out of in a morning.

The survivors ran through the fields, escaping From themselves, knowing they wouldn't return For a hundred years. Before them were spread Those quicksands where a tree changes into nothing, Into an anti-tree, where no borderline Separates a shape from a shape, and where, Amid thunder, the golden house of is Collapses, and the word becoming ascends.

The autumn always gets me badly, as it breaks into colours. I want to go south, where there is no autumn, where the cold doesn't crouch over one like a snow-leopard waiting to pounce.

And what's romance? Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything as you like it, where rain never wets your jacket and gnats never bite your nose, and it's always daisy-time.