Isaac Marion
Isaac Marion
Isaac Marion is an American writer. He is best known as the best-selling author of the "zombie romance" novel Warm Bodies...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionWriter
CountryUnited States of America
world smile-because save-the-world
We smile, because this is how we save the world.
memories mind purpose
You should always be taking pictures, if not with a camera then with your mind. Memories you capture on purpose are always more vivid than the ones you pick up by accident.
dream sleep night
I wonder how well she sleeps at night, and what kind of dreams she has. I wish I could step into them like she steps into mine.
hurt pain hate
I hate that she's hurt. I hate that she's been hurt, by me and by others, throughout the entire arc of her life. I barely remember pain, but when I see it in her I feel it in myself, in disproportionate measure. it creeps into my eyes, stinging, burning.
waiting world up-to-you
There is no ideal world for you to wait around for. The world is always just what it is now, and it's up to you how you respond to it.
scary wonderful wonderful-things
What wonderful thing didn't start out scary?
hard
It's hard to take your life so seriously when you can see it all at once.
memories fire one-day
What happened to the world was gradual. I've forgotten what it actually was, but I have faint, fetal memories of what it was like. A smoldering dread that never really caught fire till there wasn't much left to burn. Each sequential step surprised us. Then one day we woke up, and everything was gone.
feet waiting generations
Deep under our feet the Earth holds its molten breath, while the bones of countless generations watch us and wait.
memories past opposites
That's why we have memory. And the opposite of memory— hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can built off our pasts and make future.
priceless collectors items
Every experience, good or bad, is a priceless collector's item.
wall memories moving
I'm watching her talk. Watching her jaw move and collecting her words one by one as they spill from her lips. I don't deserve them. Her warm memories. I'd like to paint them over the bare plaster walls of my soul, but everything I paint seems to peel.
what-matters next matter
We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.
feelings scent rooms
It's a strange feeling, being so utterly surrounded by her. Her life scent is on everything. She's on me and under me and next to me. It's as if the entire room is made out of her.