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We can't be trapped by fear. Lives lived within such walls are just slower deaths.

Mark Lawrence

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Mark Lawrence
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 28
Author
Novelist
the United States of America
Lived
Wall
Within
Lives
Fear
Slower
Deaths
Trapped
Walls

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Men think if they're getting laid, everything is fine. Women think if they feel good, everything is fine. Neither turns out to be a very good indicator.
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Take a rest and the world catches up with you. Lesson in life--keep moving.
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She'll never love you better than she loves her own children.
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something in me had got broken, but not so broken I didn't remember what it was.
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I wanted to go home and if Hell rose up to stop me, it would make me desire it more.
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In the end it seems we're just toys,easy to break and hard to mend
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Dark times call for dark choices. Choose me.
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For the longest time I studied revenge to the exclusion of all else. I built my first torture chamber in the dark vaults of imagination. Lying on bloody sheets in the Healing Hall I discovered doors within my mind that I'd not found before, doors that even a child of nine knows should not be opened. Doors that never close again. I threw them wide.
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There's a road to hell that is paved with good intentions but it's a long route. The quicker path is paved with the kind of ignorance that clever men who just don't want to know are best at.
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Some men are too dull to feel what might happen. Others torture themselves with maybes and populate their dreams with horrors more terrible than their worst enemy could inflict upon them.
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Anything that you cannot sacrifice pins you. Makes you predictable, makes you weak.
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You're a Good Little Slave
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Do you know why the leaves change colour?... Before a tree sheds a leaf it pumps it full of all the poison it can't rid itself of otherwise. That red there--that's a man's skin blotching with burst veins after an assassin spikes his last meal with roto-weed. The poison spreading through him before he dies.
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Sometime, It's easier to love someone with flaws you can forgive in return for them forgiving yours.
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Hold to a thing long enough, a secret, a desire, maybe a lie, and it will shape you.
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I’ll tell you now. That silence almost beat me. It’s the silence that scares me. It’s the blank page on which I can write my own fears. The spirits of the dead have nothing on it. The dead one tried to show me hell, but it was a pale imitation of the horror I can paint on the darkness in a quiet moment.
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I think maybe we die every day. Maybe we're born new each dawn, a little changed, a little further on our own road. When enough days stand between you and the person you were, you're strangers. Maybe that's what growing up is. Maybe I have grown up.
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A strange thing — nails will hold a building together, but there's nothing better for taking a man apart.
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It is purity of spirit that will keep corruption from the flesh
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I've always felt that the placement of a man's testicles is an eloquent argument against intelligent design.
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