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It’s sad to see them staring wistfully through the window when the door isn’t locked.

Isaac Marion

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Isaac Marion
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: December 30
Music Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Seattle
Washington
Staring
Door
Window
Doors
Wistfully
Locked

More quotes by Isaac Marion

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You might say that death has relaxed me.
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We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.
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It's a strange feeling, being so utterly surrounded by her. Her life scent is on everything. She's on me and under me and next to me. It's as if the entire room is made out of her.
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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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Life only makes any sense if we can see time how God does. Past, present, and future all at once.
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Stop. Breathe those useless breaths. Drop this piece of life you’re holding to your lips. Where are you? How long have you been here? Stop now. You have to stop. Squeeze shut your stinging eyes, and take another bite.
Isaac Marion
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What I'm saying is, when you have weight like that in your life, you have to start looking for the bigger picture or you are gonna sink.
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I want life and in all its stupid sticky rawness.
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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.
Isaac Marion
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In my palm I can feel the echo of her pulse, standing in for the absense of mine.
Isaac Marion
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That's why we have memory. And the opposite of memory— hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can built off our pasts and make future.
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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—
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Soft flesh is eaten by hard teeth.
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Warm Bodies ended up becoming one of the most personal relatable things I've written.
Isaac Marion
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What happened? How did I get here? How could I have known that my choices mattered?
Isaac Marion
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I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I'm drowning in ellipses.
Isaac Marion
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I wish people were willing to dig a little deeper than the surface elements of a premise before tossing one story in with another.
Isaac Marion
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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.
Isaac Marion
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...thinking all this maximalism would somehow generate happiness?
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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.
Isaac Marion