Escape Quotes

Society, as we have constituted it, will have no place for me, has none to offer; but Nature, whose sweet rains fall on unjust and just alike, will have clefts in the rocks where I may hide, and secret valleys in whose silence I may weep undisturbed. She will hang the night with stars so that I may walk abroad in the darkness without stumbling, and send the wind over my footprints so that none may track me to my hurt: she will cleance me in the great waters, and with bitter herbs make me whole.

O how blessed it would be never to marry, or grow old; but to spend one's life innocently and indifferently among the trees and rivers which alone can keep one cool and childlike in the midst of the troubles of the world!

It is a pity we can't escape from life when we are young.

Books are a narcotic.

Even as a kid, my memories are of books taking me out of myself.

What can books of men that wiveIn a dragon-guarded land,Paintings of the dolphin-drawnSea-nymphs in their pearly wagonsDo, but awake a hope to live...?

If one seeks relief from unbearable pressure, one is to eat hashish.

I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fadeand flee;And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.

And so when I couldn't stand it no longer, I lit out. I got into my old rags and my sugar-hogshead again, and was free and satisfied.

We can't escape from the world anymore; we can't escape from the mind. We need to enter surrender while we are in the world. That seems to be the path that is effective in the world that we live in now.

I believe that for his escape he took advantage of the migration of a flock of wild birds.

Early on, I was so impressed with Charles Dickens. I grew up in the South, in a little village in Arkansas, and the whites in my town were really mean, and rude. Dickens, I could tell, wouldn't be a man who would curse me out and talk to me rudely.

My TV ain't HD, that's too real

Reality can be beaten with enough imagination.

What a glorious time they must have in that wilderness, far from mankind and election day!

He who makes a beast out of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.

Oh, why can't we break away from all this, just you and I, and lodge with my fleas in the hills? I mean flee to my lodge in the hills.

Somehow you'll escapeall that waiting and staying.You'll find the bright placeswhere Boom Bands are playing.

What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.

Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!

In my afternoon walk I would fain forget all my morning occupations and my obligations to society.

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.

But I go with my friend to the shore of our little river, and with one stroke of the paddle, I leave the village politics and personalities, yes, and the world of villages and personalities behind, and pass into a delicate realm of sunset and moonlight, too bright almost for spotted man to enter without novitiate and probation.

Beauty for some provides escape, who gain a happiness in eyeing the gorgeous buttocks of the ape or Autumn sunsets exquisitely dying.

This was my only and my constant comfort. When I think of it, the picture always rises in my mind, of a summer evening, the boys at play in the churchyard, and I sitting on my bed, reading as if for life.

If a man wishes to rid himself of a feeling of unbearable oppression, he may have to take hashish.

When you see a man led to prison say in your heart, "Mayhap he is escaping from a narrower prison." And when you see a man drunken say in your heart, "Mayhap he sought escape from something still more unbeautiful.

This world, such as it is, is not tolerable. Therefore I need the moon, or happiness, or immortality, I need something which is perhaps demented, but which is not of this world.

Me wretched! Let me curr to quercine shades!Effund your albid hausts, lactiferous maids!O, might I vole to some umbrageous clump,--Depart,--be off,--excede,--evade,--erump!

I don't want the public to see the world they live in while they're in the Park (Disneyland). I want to feel they're in another world.

Ah, if he could only die temporarily!

I will not trust you, I, Nor longer stay in your curst company. Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray, My legs are longer though, to run away.

...to return to their 'native soil,' as they say, to the bosom, so to speak, of their mother earth, like frightened children, yearning to fall asleep on the withered bosom of their decrepit mother, and to sleep there for ever, only to escape the horrors that terrify them.

Let fancy still in my sense in Lethe steep; If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!

Please don't wake me, no, don't shake me, leave me where I am, I'm only sleeping.

Humor is an escape, because you cannot think about your problems when you are trying to be funny; so, in essence, "being a humorist" gives you a valid excuse to hide from your pain.

Out in the world not much happened. But here in the special night, a land bricked with paper and leather anything might happen, always did.

The only victory over love is flight.

Novels so often provide an anodyne and not an antidote, glide one into torpid slumbers instead of rousing one with a burning brand.

Literature is my Utopia

Give to these children, new from the world,Rest far from men.Is anything better, anything better?Tell us it then.

You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.

I can’t think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time, without interruption, endlessly, even though I feel that here in this world there’s no undisturbed place for our love, neither in the village nor anywhere else; and I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more.

I have my books and my poetry to protect me

I no longer know If I wish to drown myself in love, vodka or the sea.

Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?

Cocaine for me was a place to hide. Most people get hyper on coke. It slowed me down. Sometimes it made me paranoid and impotent, but mostly it just made me withdrawn.

you can't get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.

The paperweight was the room he was in, and the coral was Julia's life and his own, fixed in a sort of eternity at the heart of the crystal.

I'm an Elvis fan because it was Elvis who really got me out of Liverpool.

At such times I felt something was drawing me away, and I kept fancying that if I walked straight on, far, far away and reached that line where the sky and earth meet, there I should find the key to the mystery, there I should see a new life a thousand times richer and more turbulent than ours.

I have claimed that Escape is one of the main functions of fairy-stories, and since I do not disapprove of them, it is plain that I do not accept the tone of scorn or pity with which 'Escape' is now so often used. Why should a man be scorned if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home? Or if he cannot do so, he thinks and talks about other topics than jailers and prison-walls?

I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more

Hiding places there are innumerable, escape is only one, but possibilities of escape, again, are as many as hiding places.

Come away, O human child: To the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

A good story can take you on a fantastic journey.

To forget pain is to be painless; to forget care is to be rid of it; to go abroad is to accomplish both.

Wherever I am, the world comes after me. It offers me its busyness. It does not believe that I do not want it. Now I understand why the old poets of China went so far and high into the mountains, then crept into the pale mist.

If I could just get to Poland everything would be okay.

I can exchange opinion with any neighbouring mind,I have as healthy flesh and blood as any rhymer's had,But O! my Heart could bear no more when the upland caught the wind;I ran, I ran, from my love's side because my Heart went mad.