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She is Living and I'm Dead, but I'd like to believe we're both human. Call me an idealist.
Isaac Marion
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Isaac Marion
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: December 30
Music Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Seattle
Washington
Human
Humans
Believe
Like
Idealist
Dead
Call
Living
More quotes by Isaac Marion
My favorite songs change every year.
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We eat and sleep and shuffle through the fog, walking a marathon with no finish line, no medals, no cheering.
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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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Soft flesh is eaten by hard teeth.
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There’s not really such thing as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ people, there’s just like…humanity. And it gets broken sometimes.
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A month ago there was nothing on Earth I missed, enjoyed, or longed for. I knew I could lose everything and not feel anything, and I rested easy in that knowledge. But I'm growing tired of easy things.
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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.
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It’s not about keeping up the population, it’s about passing on who we are and what we've learned, so things keep going. So we don’t just end.
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I want life and in all its stupid sticky rawness.
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It's rare that I read more than two or three books by any one author, usually only one.
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How do I appear unthreatening when her lover's blood is running down my chin?
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Are we all just Dark Age doctors, swearing by our leeches? We crave a greater science. We want to be proven wrong.
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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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...thinking all this maximalism would somehow generate happiness?
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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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I would like my life to be a movie so I could cut to a montage.
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I'm watching her talk. Watching her jaw move and collecting her words one by one as they spill from her lips. I don't deserve them. Her warm memories. I'd like to paint them over the bare plaster walls of my soul, but everything I paint seems to peel.
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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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No praise, no blame. Just so.
Isaac Marion
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