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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.

Isaac Marion

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Isaac Marion
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: December 30
Music Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Seattle
Washington
Things
Knowledge
Month
Easy
Enjoyed
Earth
Tired
Anything
Months
Everything
Lose
Nothing
Loses
Rested
Feel
Knew
Longed
Feels
Growing
Missed

More quotes by Isaac Marion

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Warm Bodies ended up becoming one of the most personal relatable things I've written.
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How do I appear unthreatening when her lover's blood is running down my chin?
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I would like my life to be a movie so I could cut to a montage.
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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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In my palm I can feel the echo of her pulse, standing in for the absense of mine.
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It frustrates and fascinates me that we'll never know for sure, that despite the best efforts of historians and scientists and poets, there are some things we'll just never know. What the first song sounded like. How it felt to see the first photograph. Who kissed the first kiss, and if it was any good.
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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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I notice faint scars on her wrists and forearms, thin lines too symmetrical to be accidents.
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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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I'm not a general or a colonel or a builder of cities. I'm just a corpse who wants not to be.
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Why is it beautiful that humanity keeps coming back? So does herpes.
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One mistake, one brief lapse of my new found judgement-that's all it took to unravel everything. What a massive responsibility, being a moral creature.
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Just... ate, M says, frowning at me a little. Two days...ago. I grab my stomach again. Feel empty. Feel... dead. He nods. Marr...iage.
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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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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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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
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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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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.
Isaac Marion
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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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I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I'm drowning in ellipses.
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