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
past doe ifs
Life only makes any sense if we can see time how God does. Past, present, and future all at once.
beautiful humanity doe
Why is it beautiful that humanity keeps coming back? So does herpes.
liars sunrise world
I don't want to hear music, I don't want the sunrise to be pink. The world is a liar. Its ugliness is overwhelming; the scraps of beauty make it worse.
eerie civilization cities
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.
cheer sleep fog
We eat and sleep and shuffle through the fog, walking a marathon with no finish line, no medals, no cheering.
coward moments
Even in my bravest moment, I am a coward.
order feelings brain
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.
care seems i-can
I can’t seem to make myself care about anything to the right or left of the present.
echoes people waiting
Are my words ever actually audible, or do they just echo in my head while people stare at me, waiting?
philosophy brain too-much
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
want enough ifs
Can we really choose anything?' 'Maybe. If we want to bad enough.
choices known happened
What happened? How did I get here? How could I have known that my choices mattered?
what-matters want next
But we don’t remember those lives. We can’t read our diaries.’ ‘It doesn’t matter. We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.’ ‘But can we choose that?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘We’re Dead. Can we really choose anything?’ ‘Maybe. If we want to bad enough.
dark night cities
I'm alone, stumbling through the city in the dark, trying not to let the night freeze my blood.