Quote

But it does make me sad that we've forgotten our names. Out of everything, this seems to me the most tragic. I miss my own and I mourn for everyone else's, because I'd like to love them, but I don't know who they are.

Isaac Marion

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Isaac Marion
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: December 30
Music Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Seattle
Washington
Make
Forgotten
Love
Missing
Like
Names
Everyone
Else
Seems
Mourn
Doe
Tragic
Everything
Miss

More quotes by Isaac Marion

Image
How do I appear unthreatening when her lover's blood is running down my chin?
Isaac Marion
Image
It's more eerie to be alone in a city that's lit up and functioning than one that's a tomb. If everything were silent, one could almost pretend to be in nature. A forest. A meadow. Crickets and birdsong. But the corpse of civilization is as restless as the creatures that now roam the graveyards.
Isaac Marion
Image
You should always be taking pictures, if not with a camera then with your mind. Memories you capture on purpose are always more vivid than the ones you pick up by accident.
Isaac Marion
Image
Life only makes any sense if we can see time how God does. Past, present, and future all at once.
Isaac Marion
Image
Music? Music is life! It’s physical emotion - you can touch it! It’s neon ecto-energy sucked out of spirits and switched into sound waves for your ears to swallow. Are you telling me, what, that it’s boring? You don’t have time for it?
Isaac Marion
Image
What's wrong with people? she says, almost too quiet for me to hear. Were they born with parts missing or did it fall out somewhere along the way?
Isaac Marion
Image
Of course, if I eat all of him, if I spare his brain, he'll rise up and follow me back to the airport, and that might make feel better. I'll introduce him to everyone, and maybe we'll stand around and groan for a while. It's hard to say what 'friends' are any more, but that might be close.
Isaac Marion
Image
It was fun, but it's over now. This is how things go.
Isaac Marion
Image
What happened? How did I get here? How could I have known that my choices mattered?
Isaac Marion
Image
I feel an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation in my lips, tugging them upward. This is... new.
Isaac Marion
Image
I wince at her use of the word human. I've never liked that differentiation. She is living and I'm dead, but we're both human. Call me an idealist.
Isaac Marion
Image
I want life and in all its stupid sticky rawness.
Isaac Marion
Image
Here it comes. My inevitable death, ignoring me all those years when I wished for it daily, arriving only after I've decided I want to live forever.
Isaac Marion
Image
You might say that death has relaxed me.
Isaac Marion
Image
It’s sad to see them staring wistfully through the window when the door isn’t locked.
Isaac Marion
Image
Writing isn't letters on paper. It's communication. It's memory.
Isaac Marion
Image
I crush her against me. I want to be part of her. Not just inside her but all around her. I want our rib cages to crack open and our hearts to migrate and merge. I want our cells to braid together like living thread.
Isaac Marion
Image
Came to . . . see you.” “But I had to go home, remember? You were supposed to say good-bye.” “Don't know why you . . . say good-bye. I say . . . hello.” Her lip quivers between reactions, but she ends up with a reluctant smile. “God you're a cheeseball. But seriously, R—
Isaac Marion
Image
...wanting change is step one, but step two is taking it.
Isaac Marion
Image
My favorite songs change every year.
Isaac Marion