Best 382 quotes in «escape quotes» category

They constantly try to escape From the darkness outside and within By dreaming of systems so perfect that no one will need to be good. But the man that is will shadow The man that pretends to be.

They lied to her every day saying that she can't fly. And the most painful thing about it was, she believed it till the end.

They knew if they remained in the city for much longer, they would be stuck and eventually run out of food. Their only hope of survival was to leave the city and meet up with the others.

They drove out of the driveway and onto the road, venturing forth into the horizon, spacious and empty, hanging before them blackly, and offering little else but the promise of the red morning sun.

This will be the night I escape. The thought repeated in my mind like a refrain, over and over, and I believed it so hard that I whispered it aloud: ‘This will be the night I escape!

They’re going to drop a nuke on New York! Hurry up! We need to leave, right now!

They're gone. I let them chase me. I led them like a sunbeam and vanished like a shadow.

Those for whom the world is not enough: saints, conquerors, poets, and all lovers of books.

Those who believe in the principles of Karma would continue to be law-abiding in every situation, as they know that they can’t escape the laws of Karma. They avoid evil deeds because even if they can avoid punishment in this life—they are sure to suffer for their evil acts in future lives.

Together we were something less, which felt like such a relief, to not be ourselves for a while.

Time is not an enemy as such, but a missing person, sending cryptic postcards from the past.

To Cassidy, the panopticon wasn't a metaphor. It was the greatest failing on everything she was, a prison she had built for herself out of an inability to appear anything less than perfect. And so she ghosted on, in relentless pursuit of escape, not from society, but from herself. She would always be confined by what everyone expected of her because she was too afraid and too unwilling to correct our imperfect imaginings.

To evade insanity and depression, we unconsciously limit the number of people toward whom we are sincerely sympathetic.

To live on a day-to-day basis is insufficient for human beings; we need to transcend, transport, escape; we need meaning, understanding, and explanation; we need to see over-all patterns in our lives. We need hope, the sense of a future. And we need freedom (or, at least, the illusion of freedom) to get beyond ourselves, whether with telescopes and microscopes and our ever-burgeoning technology, or in states of mind that allow us to travel to other worlds, to rise above our immediate surroundings. We may seek, too, a relaxing of inhibitions that makes it easier to bond with each other, or transports that make our consciousness of time and mortality easier to bear. We seek a holiday from our inner and outer restrictions, a more intense sense of the here and now, the beauty and value of the world we live in.

Through these uncharted roads, I hope to escape my recollections; I am so tired of seeing signboards, and following the same directions.

Time spent doing whatever it is you do to escape your daily life would be better spent acquiring a life that needs no escape.

To escape the damnation of hell is to accept God’s kingdom

To invent fables about a world "other" than this one has no meaning at all, unless an instinct of slander, detraction, and suspicion against life has gained the upper hand in us: in that case, we avenge ourselves against life with a phantasmagoria of "another," a "better" life.

To strive in life; we must either read or write a story.

Trap yourself inside your own brain, switch off the light, block all the escape routes, then turn your back on everything you know to be reality and try and survive there. Try. Living. Nowhere.

Tracey hurriedly shut the door behind her to prevent the flames that had been licking hungrily at her caboose all the way down the corridor, from following her inside. Then, almost falling into one of the gravity couches, she hurriedly strapped herself into it before punching the emergency release. She hoped the escape system still worked. It did. The explosive dead-bolts fired, shaking the pod loose, dislodging it from the rapidly disintegrating wreck, just about shaking the crap out of her on its bone-jarring way into the great wide open.

What's the use of the wind if it won't take you away on it?

True love was a time-honored way of escaping nearly everything—ogres, witches, bandits, tedious obligations. Her parents wouldn’t like it, but surely even they had to acknowledge that love conquered all.

Truth will keep on telling the truth Lies will lie to be more uncouth No more rainbow after the storm Nowhere to escape leaving the norm

Twentyone is too old to go anywhere alone, you know that. I want to go with someone. I don't mean as a bride, I'm not so gauche as that, but as a mistress or paramour or concubine or companion or friend or pal or anything else. I just don't want to be left alone! I want to get out of here!" She said it again for all the wide-faced flowers to hear: "I want to get out of here!

Understand, it’s never been easy to live, when we’re trying to escape ourselves.

Unfortunately, the escape became the trap.

We all have our safe islands somewhere in the seas of thought, but eventually, what we fear always learns to build a boat to come find us.

We all have to escape from this thing called life sometimes. Maybe we use substances to do it. Maybe we use religion. Maybe we use exercise. Maybe we use anger. But we all have to do it. *How* we do it is what defines us.

We all want to escape our circumstances, don't we? Especially if you are an actor.

We are the wilderness within Screaming out for true expression. Even when we’re sleeping, There’s no escape from this obsession.

We could scan each car for terrorists and lovers she could lean into my camouflage her head resting on woven trees. When they come for her body she could run deep into my uniform into the forest of me where they could never find her.

We fell, but we never let the box fall from our hands. Then we ran. We ran blindly, and men and houses streaked past us in a torrent without shape.

We have a calling: a need to be close to Nature, where she may cleanse our souls and wash away the stresses of yesterday. It is emotional recompense for the cost of living.

We have all been fooled into believing in people who are entirely imaginary--made-up prisoners in a hypothetical panopticon. But the point isn't whether or not you believe in imaginary people; it's whether or not you want to. "I think I'll stick with reality," I said, handing Cassidy back her phone. She stared at it, and then me, disappointed. "I'd think you of all people would want to escape." "Imaginary prisoners are still prisoners.

Well, I like to know where I'm going before I try to get there. It's a mistake to try to execute a plan before you've thought of one, in my experience.

We often fully sense and relish the radiance of happiness only after it is has escaped through the backstage door, stealthily and silently. ("Happy days are back again")

We’re lost in each other, in the heart of Toronto, slow dancing to nothing but the beat of my heart and the sound of her breath on my neck. I know the subway trains are trembling beneath my feet and that we’re amidst the constant buzz of city life, yet I hear nothing but my heart beating and feel nothing but her breath on my neck.

What do you recommend?” he asked me, leaning down to speak softly in my ear. I shivered all over. I recommend we go home and spend the afternoon with you whispering in my ear while you make me scream your name, I thought, and bit my tongue to hold it in.

... what ease our seemingly entrenched lives might be altered were we simply to walk down a corridor and onto a craft that in a few hours would land us in a place of which we had no memories and where no one knew our name.

Whatever my future held, I was certain it wouldn’t be borne on the bitter wind that blew along Broadway. It was waiting in a place where lime-green leaves burst forth from soil the color of night, where flowers bloomed under skies on fire, where pariah dogs fucked in the streets and wild monkeys called in the twilight—a place where women smiled and the moon smiled with them.

What good was escaping into one's imagination if the world's problems came along for the ride?

What were you thinking of just now?” he asked instead of answering my question. He walked over to the window, stood beside me and joined me looking out. We gazed across the Elbe River, marveling at the amazing and incredible beauty spread out before us in the glorious sunny early morning. Then he continued, “When we came and opened the door, your face was so intent on some sort of dream. Not a happy one I think,” it was a very gentle tone, the loving nuances. I saw the look of longing in his eyes and my heart skipped a crazy beat. I clasped my hand more firmly and gazed toward the view of the far line that marked the edge of the Elbe river of Hamburg Harbor. I was thinking about Hamburg,” I told him. “Thinking about the escape they seem to offer.” “Escape?” he asked. “I would have said a prison, rather.” “That, too. It’s a false escape of course. I was thinking about their dangers, too. “Go on,” he said. Then I put my fancy into words. “I suppose I used to love the feeling of shutting out the world, of drawing a line of that water in the harbor around me and letting all the achingly familiar scenes stay outside the line. I started to cry. “It’s been years, Adrian. I kept everything in my heart because that’s what all was left; everything, absolutely everything. It’s completely messed up and you have no idea, at all. I was left alone to mourn.

When introverts go to church, we crave sanctuary in every sense of the word, as we flee from the disorienting distractions of twenty-first-century life. We desire to escape from superficial relationships, trivial communications and the constant noise that pervade our world, and find rest in the probing depths of God's love.

When he put his arms around me, and held me to his chest, everything in me settled. When he spoke into my ear, it all came loose again, as if his words evaporated the gravity of my mind.

When I was a child, I read everything I found, anywhere I found it. The only thing that felt beautiful about my life was the way books helped me escape it.

When I was in the Army, I was trained to survive, not to wait to die. Make no mistake. I am leaving this city one way or another.

What makes people tick? Life can be a trap of ennui, but imagery may be a redemptive escape from dullness. The iconic power and exuberance of images generate an inexorable addiction that needs to be gratified without respite. Here and now! ("Give me more images")

When you talk about escape, know that it doesn’t take place from the front. Hidden paths are always on the back.

Which direction?" Robard asked. "Robard," I said exasperated, "we need a boat. I believe boats are kept at or near the ocean.