Quotes About Escape

cela m'excite de penser à tout ce qui fuit dans la vie au nom de la vie.

Yeah, Jade was chasing me in a fancy limo—it was like a nightmare

If there was one thing she knew by then, by age twenty-two, it was that she had to get far away and stay away. Here in his world she was trapped in an intolerable corner, which seemed to grow tighter and tighter each year. And now no place in America felt right.

We have art so that we shall not die of reality.

Food has been my career, my hobby, and, it must be said, my escape.

You can run away from all life responsibilities but can't hide from mistakes.

She wept and suffered, and finally, when Father had left the house again, she went to one of her secret places where a bottle was, and drank a tunnel away from the pain.

Merely assuaging fears and satisfying desires will not remove this sense of emptiness you are trying to escape from; only self-knowledge can help you.

was the idyllic fantasy of Europeans fed up with the world they had. They saw this new Garden of Eden as a gift from God. One that offered escape from the problems that plagued them—hopelessness, debt, religious oppression. Escape too from the responsibility of rebuilding a system that was fundamentally flawed. Flee, don't fix.

Reading is escape, and the opposite of escape; it's a way to make contact with reality after a day of making things up, and it's a way of making contact with someone else's imagination after a day that's all too real.

There is something called the rapture of the deep, and it refers to what happens when a deep-sea diver spends too much time at the bottom of the ocean and can't tell which way is up. When he surfaces, he's liable to have a condition called the bends, where the body can't adapt to the oxygen levels in the atmosphere. All of this happens to me when I surface from a great book.

I do not feel obliged in my reading. I read to be entertained and to relax, and to go into another world, not because it's good for me.

This will sound strange, and yet I'm sure it was the point: it was a bit like being high. That, for me, anyway, had always been the attraction of drugs, to stop the brutal round of hypercritical thinking, to escape the ravages of an unoccupied mind cannibalizing itself.

I will never dream again. For I can never again forget who I am. I realized that when I couldn't escape from the pain.

People don't get into planes because they want to fly, they get into planes because they want to get somewhere else faster. What's produced the aeroplane is not so much a desire to fly as a rebellion against the tyranny of time and space.

Chi legge è altrove.

Perhaps nothing is more magical then the book. Paper, glue and some words and you are taken away from where you sit, stand, dance, or lean.

As a kind of castaway myself, I was happy to escape into the fictional world of someone else's trouble.

A partner must be biologically interesting, attractive to us, and you are fascinating. You are horror and beauty in rare combination. In a very real way, you've captured us, and we can't escape. But you're more than only the composition and the workings of your bodies. You are your personalities, your cultures.

My love of writing is an outgrowth of my love of reading. Both helped me to escape boredom, to perform thought experiments, and to deal with the daily news. I can create a world that makes more sense than this one.

My grandmother left a whole bookcase of old science fiction novels. The company-city subgenre always seemed to star a hero who outsmarted, overthrew, or escaped "the company." I've never seen one where the hero fought like hell to get taken in and underpaid by the company. In real life, that's the way it will be. That's the way it is.

O que Weylin dissera? Que ser educada não significava ser esperta. Ele tinha certa razão. Nada na minha educação ou no conhecimento do futuro havia me ajudado a escapar.

That educated didn't mean smart. He had a point. Nothing in my education or knowledge of the future had helped me to escape. Yet in a few years an illiterate runaway named Harriet Tubman would make nineteen trips into this country and lead three hundred fugitives to freedom.

The city hung on him, weighed him down with stone on all sides; it clung to him with the tar of dozens of eyes he could see, and hundreds more he couldn't. Lord, how much easier things were in the forest.