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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

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Isaac Marion
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: December 30
Music Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Seattle
Washington
Emotion
Waves
Sound
Spirits
Energy
Wave
Spirit
Boring
Music
Ears
Switched
Time
Touch
Neon
Life
Telling
Sucked
Physical
Swallow

More quotes by Isaac Marion

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I feel an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation in my lips, tugging them upward. This is... new.
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Deep under our feet the Earth holds its molten breath, while the bones of countless generations watch us and wait.
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I used to split my time between writing, music and painting. I would work on a book and then abandon it, start a band, do an album, quit music, then do a gallery show. Eventually I decided to give writing a serious shot.
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Once you've arrived at the end of the world, it hardly matters which route you took.
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It's not like I'm such a shiny happy person either, you know? I'm a wreck too, I'm just... still alive.
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Sometimes I wonder if he has a philosophy. Maybe even a worldview. I'd like to sit down with him and pick his brain, just a tiny bit somewhere in the frontal lobe to get a taste of his thoughts. But he's too much of a toughguy to ever be that vulnerable. - R on M
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Warm Bodies ended up becoming one of the most personal relatable things I've written.
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I can no longer believe in any voodoo spell or laboratory virus. This is something deeper, darker. This comes from the cosmos, from the stars, or the unknown blackness behind them. The shadows in God's boarded-up basement.
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No praise, no blame. Just so.
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I don't want to hear music, I don't want the sunrise to be pink. The world is a liar. Its ugliness is overwhelming the scraps of beauty make it worse.
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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.
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I sigh inside, so exhausted by these ugly questions, but when did a monster ever deserve its privacy?
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I notice faint scars on her wrists and forearms, thin lines too symmetrical to be accidents.
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Sometimes it's a struggle to live in the moment.
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It's hard to take your life so seriously when you can see it all at once.
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What's the point of trying to fix a world we're so briefly in?
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What happened to the world was gradual. I've forgotten what it actually was, but I have faint, fetal memories of what it was like. A smoldering dread that never really caught fire till there wasn't much left to burn. Each sequential step surprised us. Then one day we woke up, and everything was gone.
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How do I appear unthreatening when her lover's blood is running down my chin?
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You can order yourself to treasure a moment, to cling tight to a feeling and never let it fade, but it's your brain, that three-pound lump of hamburger, that makes the final call.
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My favorite songs change every year.
Isaac Marion