Quotes About Escape

Because the writer has done her job, the world of the book I am reading has become, for the moment at least, more real than the world at my elbow. Books this good should carry a warning: Your quiche might burn, your child might escape his playpen, the morning glory vine might strangle your roses, and you'll never know.

Reading is often thought of as a form of escapism, and it's a common turn of phrase to speak of getting lost in a book. But a book can also be where one finds oneself...

And many thanks to you, Mrs. Blackwell, for bringing the weaknesses of our cell locks to our attention. She broke out twice," the officer informed Saxon. "We finally had to tie her up.

The Appalachian Mountains. Perhaps a little more uncivilized than he cared for, but anything was better than marriage.

Didn't never say I'd kill the man. 'Course, never said I wouldn't, neither. Y'see, I got a mind to git out and see this country one day, Saxon. Ain't never gwine leave these hills ferever, but thur's a passel o' thangs I don't know nothin' about. And who knows? Maybe whilst I'm a-travelin', I'll come acrost ole Barton Winslow. The world's big, but thur's only so many places a man can hide.

Getting lost was not a matter of geography so much as identity, a passionate desire, even an urgent need, to become no one and anyone, to shake off the shackles that remind you who you are, who others think you are.

See, she goes places when she reads. I know all about that. When I'm reading, wherever I am, I'm always somewhere else.

But all she wanted to do was lie in bed, eat Kraft macaroni and cheese, and hide from the alligators.

A couple of rabbits were being chased by a pack of coyotes. They stopped in a haystack, and one rabbit said to the other, "We gonna make a run for it, or stay here and outnumber them?"

Before reading about all of the world's messes, I need to be in a good place, soothed and comforted. Prepared. So I read the comics first.

En los sistemas políticos siniestros, se vuelven siniestras también muchas de las personas que lo padecen; no son muchos los que pueden escapar a esa maldad delirante y envolvente de la cual, si uno se excluye, perece.

That's why he's called Legion—in a way he's the embodiment of the crowd. It's the crowd that comes out of him and goes and throws itself off of the cliff. We're witnessing the birth of an individual capable of escaping the fatal destiny of collective violence.

Her entire life she had been running from terrifying shadows she could no longer see—and in escape she ran straight into life. In the years since, she had discovered the sacrament of life did not demand memory. Like a leaf that drank from the morning dew, you didn't question the morning sunrise or the sweet taste on your mouth. You just drank.

After a time, it seemed that the world inside the books became my world. So when I thought of my childhood, it was dandelion wine and ice cream on a summer porch, like Ray Bradbury, and catching catfish with Huck Finn. My own memories receded and the book memories became the real memories, far more than the outside, far more even than in here. B

That's the thing that you never have understood, Stella. You've run from your life. All your life that's been your MO. You've always wanted something more.

Reading is a staple of life, like bread or water. Or chocolate.

When people's brains stop working, just go somewhere else." (Death of a Doxie)

Go to hell, I'm reading. ~Archie Goodwin

But for anyone who is fed up with people and noise, the favorite spot could be Lily Rowan's cabin clearing. I admit there is a little noise, Berry Creek making a fuss about the rocks that won't move, but after a couple of days you hear it only when you want to.

We should all have personal hot air balloons and drift serenely through the clouds.

Oh, you're missing so much, Alice," Emily said. "Books are wonderful. You can get transported away by a good story. If we're living in a place like this, we can read about Paris or a tropical island and feel like we're there.

Like a fox being chased by the hounds, she needed a bolthole in which to lick her wounds.

few times like a Mini in The Italian Job

She did not try to explain, and Huma did not ask her to. For a brief time, the war, the knighthood, all his problems vanished.