47 Quotes Tagged: escape

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.

Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotion know what it means to want to escape from these.

"In my dreams, crowds were chanting, challenging me, shouting, "Follow us and fit in!" I wanted to tell him that life itself has turned into a prowling lion. I wanted to tell him that I needed to escape the blaze of bullshit."

Let them run ahead. Then I’ll have good reason for shooting them down. Sharpeville? Attempting to escape. Attempting to escape from the prison of their lives. That’s the most dangerous crime. It brings about revolution. So, off we go, lads!

From the middle of a tomb whose lights burn only for survival…our tired bodies finally understand and obey our beating hearts.

Meet me in the country,
Meet me in the country,
The city's breath is getting way too evil to breathe.
Meet us in the country,
Leave the pigs and rats in the city — Under the gypsy sun, we all will clearly reach the grace of living — …to give and receive with love and ease.
We'll dance to the drums of the open life…
love is the rhythm of man and wife…
faith in the beat for everyone.
God breathes music…through the life of the Gypsy Sun…

To escape from the world means that one's mind is not concerned with the opinions of the world.

Escape? There is one unwatched way: your eyes. O Beauty! Keep me good that secret gate.

It is impossible to escape the impression that people commonly use false standards of measurement — that they seek power, success and wealth for themselves and admire them in others, and that they underestimate what is of true value in life.

He approaches a cockroach in only one respect: his coloration is brown. That is all. Apart from this he has a tremendous convex belly divided into segments and a hard rounded back suggestive of wing cases. In beetles these cases conceal flimsy little wings that can be expanded and then may carry the beetle for miles and miles in a blundering flight. Curiously enough, Gregor the beetle never found out that he had wings under the hard covering of his back. (This is a very nice observation on my part to be treasured all your lives. Some Gregors, some Joes and Janes, do not know that they have wings.)

But many of us seek community solely to escape the fear of being alone. Knowing how to be solitary is central to the art of loving. When we can be alone, we can be with others without using them as a means of escape.

If only they let me, I'll go right into the dense forest where you can't find your way. And where the honey-sipping hummingbird rocks himself on the end of the thinnest branch, I will flower out as a champa.

Then from those profound slumbers we awake in a dawn, not knowing who we are, being nobody, newly born, ready for anything, the brain emptied of that past which was life until then. And perhaps it is more wonderful still when our landing at the waking-point is abrupt and the thoughts of our sleep, hidden by a cloak of oblivion, have no time to return to us gradually, before sleep ceases. Then, from the black storm through which we seem to have passed (but we do not even say we), we emerge prostrate, without a thought, a we that is void of content.

If all we seek is an escape, what does that say about the world we live in. We are desperate with our dreams. What - oh, what - does that say?

To acquire the habit of reading is to construct for yourself a refuge from almost all the miseries of life.

To write poetry and to commit suicide, apparently so contradictory, had really been the same, attempts at escape.