I believe one has to escape oneself to discover oneself.

(…) I do want to leave, in the desperate way that an animal wants to escape a trap. Wild and rabid. Ready to gnaw through bone.

And you wanted to escape,’ a man near me whispered to another man. ‘You wanted to run off into the woods and fight. But do you see? Do you see what the rest of them...

In the dark, neglected gutter running the length of a nearby secluded side street lies a small, lifeless bird. This is the blackcap – the unaccustomed northern nightingale – a creature with a charcoal greyness...

My soul is sailing out and around me constantly trying to escape my body.

Only the dead have seen the end of war.” Perhaps the death of us all is called for in this time of emotional desperation. War is a product of the mind; only with the death...

She spent the foggy day in endless, aimless walking, for it seemed to her that if she moved quickly enough she would escape the fear that hunted her. It was a vague and shadowy fear...

Every time you think of escaping mentally or physically, grab the book that lies inches away from your heart.

I think that pretty much every form of fiction (I’d include fantasy, obviously) can actually be a real escape from places where you feel bad, and from bad places. It can be a safe place...

What’s the use of the wind if it won’t take you away on it?

A body can’t run from what they done. They carry it with them inside. It fester and spread like poison if it’s buried. It gotta be out in the air where it can heal.

The storm passed by my shop, and I had to escape from the shower of stones, tear gas and rubber bullets to save my life,

But nothing was a important as escaping Evernight or the ‘destiny’ my parents and teachers had decided for me. I had only one chance to be free and to be with the guy I loved....

A smiling lie is a whirlwind, easy to enter, but hard to escape.

I walked in the dark forest at night…I couldn’t see much further in the dark ,I heard the sound of the past, ..Memories Went back clear to me and Fear started hunting me, ..No Way...

You really didn’t appreciate how thick, how powerful water was until you had to fight it.

But if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in.

Then from those profound slumbers we awake in a dawn, not knowing who we are, being nobody, newly born, ready for anything, the brain emptied of that past which was life until then. And perhaps...

It isn’t running away they’re afraid of. We wouldn’t get far. It’s those other escapes, the ones you can open in yourself, given a cutting edge.

My mind became a sanctuary for secret thoughts of escaping from this household.

Words! What power they hold. Once they have rooted in your psyche, it is difficult to escape them. Words can shape the future of a child and destroy the existence of an adult.Words are powerful....

Change is coming, she whispered to the bugs bouncing off her window. You can’t escape it.

I need a new trick if I am to walk without legs, see without eyes or speak without words.

For I’m afraid of loneliness; shiveringly, terribly afraid. I don’t mean the ordinary physical loneliness, for here I am, deliberately travelled away from London to get to it, to its spaciousness and healing. I mean...

Every American autobiography, someone once said, is about one thing—escape. Look into the frightened heart of an American life, and you’ll find a compulsion to flee—a seed planted in the national character at the start...

Restaurants are a wonderful escape for me. And are for a lot of people.

I want to run. To do what I always do, have always done, for the last five years of my life. Escape, flee into the shadows. But this time, I stand my ground. I’m tired...

A good traveller is one who knows how to travel with the mind.

Unicorns know naught of shame, or need, or doubt, or debt;But mortals, as you may have noticed, take what they can get.

They constantly try to escapeFrom the darkness outside and withinBy dreaming of systems so perfect that no one will need to be good.But the man that is shall shadowThe man that pretends to be.

The hurts from my last day with my father are healed now, but I want to remember where they were; I want to remember what I escaped for as long as I live.

I spent the rest of the day in someone else’s story. The rare moments that I put the book down, my own pain returned in burning stabs.

He’s got things to do, places to be, realities to believe in. He can feel the phone he’s been told to keep switched off in this communication-free zone vibrating in his pocket and he thanks...

This song Emily by Joanna Newsom attaches my body to my soul which sails out and around me desperately trying to escape all the time. I still don’t understand it’s original meaning.

The day I became a writerit wasn’t the day a whore paid me in sexin exchange for one of my bookswhich happened often and more and moreas time went onit wasn’t the first time someone...

It might interest you to know,” Tully says, “that there’s a reason people build miniatures. Doesn’t matter if it’s guys laying out model railroads or women decorating dollhouses. It’s about control. It’s about reinventing reality.”...

The church and the whorehouse arrived in the Far West simultaneously. And each would have been horrified to think it was a different facet of the same thing. But surely they were both intended to...

I had forgotten what fiction was to me as a boy, forgotten what it was like in the library: fiction was an escape from the intolerable, a doorway into impossibly hospitable worlds where things had...

By God, I shall spend the rest of my life getting my heart back, healing and forgetting every scar you put upon me when I was a child. The first move I ever made, after...

If you think you’re free, there’s no escape possible.

I must apologize for calling so late,” said he, “and I must further beg you to be so unconventional as to allow me to leave your house presently by scrambling over your back garden wall.

Nearly two years of dates. Still no question. Her mother and father want to set a proper date. Still no question. Her friends keep asking, when, Natasha? When? But she still hasn’t been asked The...

Yo pensaba que también podía ser heroico escaparse por gusto, sin más, por amor a la libertad y a la alegría—no a la alegría impuesta oficial y mesurada, sino a la carcajada y a la...

She walked forward, feeling the dew on the grass with each step. She tightened her eyes, welcoming the darkness.

Sooner or later, everybody dreams of other worlds.

Nobody actually ever does this—escaping through a window.

I used to dream of being other places, other people. It was an escape for me.

You think you can get rid of things, and people too–leave them behind. You don’t know yet about the habit they have, of coming back.

But it was fantasy, and she knew it. It was her fantasy, and the fantasy of everyone else who would look at her and at her pictures; and it would stop being real the moment...

No one can escape their past. The sins we’ve committed… and the sadness we’ve caused… No matter how far we run, our past remains, as ever-present as the moon in the sky. It looms in...