Isaac Marion Quotes

Life only makes any sense if we can see time how God does. Past, present, and future all at once.

Can we really choose anything?' 'Maybe. If we want to bad enough.

In my palm I can feel the echo of her pulse, standing in for the absense of mine.

What a massive responsibility, being a moral creature

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

The sports arena Julie calls home is unaccountably large, perhaps one of those dual-event 'super venues' built for an era when the greatest quandary facing the world was where to put all the parties.

All my life I have battled the alarm clock, pummeling the snooze button over and over with mounting self-loathing until the shame is finally strong enough to lever me upright.

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.

Sometimes it's a struggle to live in the moment.

It's rare that I read more than two or three books by any one author, usually only one.

I've always been interested in writing from the perspective of an outsider.

I adapt to things quickly, including good things, which I wish I could shut off sometimes.

You might say that death has relaxed me.

We have to remember everything. If we don't, by the time we grow up it'll be gone forever.

I feel an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation in my lips, tugging them upward. This is... new.

Nothing is permanent. Not even the end of the world.

Here we are on the road. We must be going somewhere.

Writing isn't letters on paper. It's communication. It's memory.

There is a chasm between me and the world outside of me. A gap so wide my feelings can't cross it. By the time my screams reach the other side, they have dwindled into groans.

But I'm not afraid of the skeletons in Julie's closet. I look forward to meeting the rest of them, looking them hard in the eye, giving them firm, bone-crunching handshakes.

If there are rules, we're the ones making them. We can change them whenever we want to.

Not so easy, Mr Lennon. Even if you try.

I'm not a general or a colonel or a builder of cities. I'm just a corpse who wants not to be.

What wonderful thing didn't start out scary?

It's hard to take your life so seriously when you can see it all at once.

What's the point of trying to fix a world we're so briefly in?

Once you've arrived at the end of the world, it hardly matters which route you took.

It's not like I'm such a shiny happy person either, you know? I'm a wreck too, I'm just... still alive.

God has made us study partner. We need to talk about our project.

The moment the light went out, everyone stopped pretending.

One mistake, one brief lapse of my new found judgement-that's all it took to unravel everything. What a massive responsibility, being a moral creature.

She is Living and I'm Dead, but I'd like to believe we're both human. Call me an idealist.

I want life and in all its stupid sticky rawness.

It was fun, but it's over now. This is how things go.

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.

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.

All the shitty stuff people do to themselves... it can all be the same thing, you know? Just a way to drown out your own voice. To kill your memories without having to kill yourself.

It’s sad to see them staring wistfully through the window when the door isn’t locked.

Even in my bravest moment, I am a coward.

There's no benchmark for how life's "supposed" to happen. There is no ideal world for you to wait around for. The world is always just what it is now, it's up to you how you respond to it.

The past is made out of facts... I guess the future is just hope.

In the darkest and strangest of places with the most macabre of company, this music moves her and her life pulses hard... And even for Julie's safety, I can't bring myself to smother it.

What is left of us? … No countries, no cultures, no wars but still no peace. What’s at our core, then? What’s still squirming in our bones when everything else is stripped?

I wish I could read what she's written there. Instead, I pretend the letters are stars. The words, constellations.

Even as I think them, the words lose their context, dissolve into grains of absurdity in the vast ocean of day-to-day hunger.

My mom used to say that’s why we have memory. And the opposite of memory—hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can build off our pasts and make futures.

Well we have to. We have to remember everything. If we don’t, by the time we grow up it’ll be gone forever.

I’m alone, stumbling through the city in the dark, trying not to let the night freeze my blood.

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.

The ethics of eating people are blurry at best in the fog of my undead amnesia, but I expect more for such a high price. What I want are the moments I will never have. The warm ones. The living ones.