Gregory David Roberts Quotes

I was free. Every day, when you're on the run, is the whole of your life. Every free minute is a short story with a happy ending.

If I'm free, it's because I'm always running.

You have to keep running. I always believed I was going to be safe.

Run scared ... and they never catch you.

like the fox I run with the hunted and if I’m not the happiest man on earth I’m surely the luckiest man alive.

Reading is one form of escape. Running for your life is another.

Umm, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you suppose to be dead? Currently being chased by two Cabals? You're waltzing around Vancouver, eating in restaurants?" (Ash)"Hell no," Corey said. "I never waltz. I do the fox-trot sometimes though.

We could do it, you know." "What?" "Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it.

Disney World?” Ari felt like his head was about to explode. “Disney World?” His gravelly voice rose into a harsh shriek. “They’re not on vacation! They’re on the run! They’re running for their lives! Death is following them like a bullet, and they’re on the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad?

No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks, when the teacher rings the bell, drop your books and run like hell

I'm running out of places I can run, looking for a place in the sun.

Now to escape involves not just running away, but arriving somewhere.

She knows where she's going, and what she has to do. She could, after all, find her way to Route 95 South blindfolded. She could do it in the dark, in fair weather or foul; she can do it even when it seems she will run out of gas. It doesn't matter what people tell you. It doesn't matter what they might say. Sometimes you have to leave home. Sometimes, running away means you're headed in the exact right direction.

I believe the poor fierce-eyed child had figured out that with a mere fifty dollars in her purse she might somehow reach Broadway or Hollywood - or the foul kitchen of a diner (Help Wanted) in a dismal ex-prairie state, with the wind blowing, and the stars blinking, and the cars, and the bars, and the barmen, and everything soiled, torn, dead.

He can run anytime he wants. I'm giving him the red light.

Our footsteps run, and I don't want them to end. I want to run and laugh and feel like this forever. I want to avoid any awkward moment when the realness of reality sticks its fork into our flesh, leaving us standing there, together. I want to stay here, in this moment, and never go to other places, where we don't know what to say or what to do.

Nobody run off with her,” Roscoe said. "She just run off with herself, I guess.

I think a lot of people want to, at some point in their life, be someone else, run away and escape, in some way. We actors do get to do it. We have a job that allows for that. We have an outlet for it.

A man could be a lover and defender of the wilderness without ever in his lifetime leaving the boundaries of asphalt, powerlines, and right-angled surfaces. We need wilderness whether or not we ever set foot in it. We need a refuge even though we may never need to set foot in it. We need the possibility of escape as surely as we need hope; without it the life of the cities would drive all men into crime or drugs or psychoanalysis.

I run to breathe the fresh air. I run to explore. I run to escape the ordinary.

I enjoyed the discipline and solitariness of long-distance running, which allowed me to escape from the hurly-burly of school life.

Perchance the time will come when we shall not be content to go back and forth upon a raft to some huge Homeric or Shakespearean Indiaman that lies upon the reef, but build a bark out of that wreck and others that are buried in the sands of this desolate island, and such new timber as may be required, in which to sail away to whole new worlds of light and life, where our friends are.

All the general fear I've been feeling condenses into an immediate fear of this girl, this predator who might kill me in seconds. Adrenaline shoots through me and I sling the pack over one shoulder and run full-speed for the woods. I can hear the blade whistling toward me and reflexively hike the pack up to protect my head. The blade lodges in the pack. Both straps on my shoulders now, I make for the trees. Somehow I knew the girl will not pursue me. That she'll be drawn back into the Cornucopia before all the good stuff is gone. A grin crosses my face. Thanks for the knife, I think.

A slave in the fields one night He's running along Gets far enough to be a free man And he's feeling so strong