The past is made out of facts...I guess the future is just hope. Isaac Marion More Quotes by Isaac Marion More Quotes From Isaac Marion 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. Isaac Marion party home sports Breathing is optional, but I need some air. Isaac Marion breathing air needs Can we really choose anything?' 'Maybe. If we want to bad enough. Isaac Marion ifs enough want Sometimes I wonder if he has a philosophy. Maybe even a worldview. I'd like to sit down with him and pick his brain, just a tiny bit somewhere in the frontal lobe to get a taste of his thoughts. But he's too much of a toughguy to ever be that vulnerable. - R on M Isaac Marion too-much brain philosophy 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. Isaac Marion brain feelings order The kind of stuff I usually read is a bit more on the literary side, like books that I think are influential in the sense that they're doing pulpy subject matter in a refined way. Like 'The Road' by Cormac McCarthy, I loved that book. Isaac Marion sides book thinking What happened? How did I get here? How could I have known that my choices mattered? Isaac Marion known happened choices Sometimes it's a struggle to live in the moment. Isaac Marion struggle live-in-the-moment sometimes My favorite songs change every year. Isaac Marion my-favorite song years It's rare that I read more than two or three books by any one author, usually only one. Isaac Marion three two book I've always been interested in writing from the perspective of an outsider. Isaac Marion outsiders perspective writing I adapt to things quickly, including good things, which I wish I could shut off sometimes. Isaac Marion good-things wish sometimes Writing isn't letters on paper. It's communication. It's memory. Isaac Marion communication writing memories It's more eerie to be alone in a city that's lit up and functioning than one that's a tomb. If everything were silent, one could almost pretend to be in nature. A forest. A meadow. Crickets and birdsong. But the corpse of civilization is as restless as the creatures that now roam the graveyards. Isaac Marion eerie cities civilization Everything you see, you might be seeing for the last time. Isaac Marion last-time lasts might I think we crushed ourselves down over the centuries. Buried ourselves under greed and hate and whatever other sins we could find until our souls finally hit the rock bottom of the universe. And then they scraped a hole through it, into some ... darker place. Isaac Marion rocks hate thinking Peel off these dusty wool blankets of apathy and antipathy and cynical desiccation. I want life in all its stupid sticky rawness. Isaac Marion cynical apathy stupid It’s not about keeping up the population, it’s about passing on who we are and what we've learned, so things keep going. So we don’t just end. Isaac Marion who-we-are population passing-on Came to . . . see you.” “But I had to go home, remember? You were supposed to say good-bye.” “Don't know why you . . . say good-bye. I say . . . hello.” Her lip quivers between reactions, but she ends up with a reluctant smile. “God you're a cheeseball. But seriously, R— Isaac Marion remembers-you remember-you home He is spent. His mind is mercury again, its brief surge of humanity melting into an oily residue on its surface, and he no longer understands the feelings he felt in that strange moment on the overpass. But he did feel them. They did happen. They rest on the murky seabed of his mind, buried under sand and silt and miles of grey waves. Patient seeds waiting for light. Isaac Marion light waiting feelings
