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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.

Isaac Marion

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Isaac Marion
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: December 30
Music Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Seattle
Washington
Next
Surrounded
Everything
Utterly
Made
Entire
Life
Room
Rooms
Strange
Feeling
Feelings
Scent

More quotes by Isaac Marion

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We have to remember everything. If we don't, by the time we grow up it'll be gone forever.
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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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Once you've arrived at the end of the world, it hardly matters which route you took.
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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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It was fun, but it's over now. This is how things go.
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My favorite songs change every year.
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We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.
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Can we really choose anything?' 'Maybe. If we want to bad enough.
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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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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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What happened? How did I get here? How could I have known that my choices mattered?
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...wanting change is step one, but step two is taking it.
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Everything you see, you might be seeing for the last time.
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How do I appear unthreatening when her lover's blood is running down my chin?
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You might say that death has relaxed me.
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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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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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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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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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In my mind I am eloquent I can climb intricate scaffolds of words to reach the highest cathedral ceilings and paint my thoughts. But when I open my mouth, everything collapses.
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