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We eat and sleep and shuffle through the fog, walking a marathon with no finish line, no medals, no cheering.

Isaac Marion

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Isaac Marion
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: December 30
Music Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Seattle
Washington
Line
Shuffle
Walking
Medals
Lines
Cheering
Sleep
Fog
Marathon
Medal
Cheer
Finish

More quotes by Isaac Marion

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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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No praise, no blame. Just so.
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Every time I go to sleep, I know I may never wake up. How could anyone expect to? You drop your tiny, helpless mind into a bottomless well, crossing your fingers and hoping when you pull it out on its flimsy fishing wire it hasn't been gnawed to bones by nameless beasts below.
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I feel an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation in my lips, tugging them upward. This is... new.
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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.
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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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I notice faint scars on her wrists and forearms, thin lines too symmetrical to be accidents.
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You should always be taking pictures, if not with a camera then with your mind. Memories you capture on purpose are always more vivid than the ones you pick up by accident.
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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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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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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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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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...wanting change is step one, but step two is taking it.
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Writing isn't letters on paper. It's communication. It's memory.
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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 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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Can we really choose anything?' 'Maybe. If we want to bad enough.
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If there are rules, we're the ones making them. We can change them whenever we want to.
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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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Warm Bodies ended up becoming one of the most personal relatable things I've written.
Isaac Marion