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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
Easy
Enjoyed
Earth
Tired
Anything
Months
Everything
Lose
Nothing
Loses
Rested
Feel
Knew
Longed
Feels
Growing
Missed
Things
Knowledge
Month

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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When the entire world is built on death and horror, when existence is a constant state of panic, it's hard to get worked up about any one thing. Specific fears have become irrelevant. We've replace them with a smothering blanket far worse.
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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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...wanting change is step one, but step two is taking it.
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I want a new past,new memories, a new first handshake with love. I want to start over in every possible way.
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We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.
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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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Writing isn't letters on paper. It's communication. It's memory.
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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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Sometimes it's a struggle to live in the moment.
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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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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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I can feel it... the chance to start over, to live right, to love right, to burn up in a fiery cloud and never again be buried in the mud.
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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 know things are moving. You're changing, you fellow Dead are changing, the world is ready for something miraculous. What are we waiting for?
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It’s sad to see them staring wistfully through the window when the door isn’t locked.
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Can we really choose anything?' 'Maybe. If we want to bad enough.
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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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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?
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...thinking all this maximalism would somehow generate happiness?
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