Isaac Marion Quotes

All the lines that held me to my life were sliced apart in swift cuts, like clipping the strings of a bunch of balloons. Everything that made me who I was - my love for the dead girl upstairs, my love for my father, my loyalty to my new pack, the love for my other brothers, my hatred for my enemies, my home, my name, my self - disconnected from me in that second - snip, snip, snip - and floated up into space.

I don't recognize my former self. Like I'm on the outside looking in at my life. Who is that guy?

If I can't write it would be as if I died.

I didn't know who the hell I was. I was whoever they wanted me to be.

I look at myself but I'm missing. I know myself: it’s not me.

Ruin still used Reen's voice-it was familiar, something that had always seemed a part of her. Discovering that it belonged to that thing...it was like finding out that her reflection really belonged to someone else, and that she'd never actually seen herself.

But I found that the longer you teach, the more you feel like a total stranger to yourself

Sam looked at me, yellow eyes catching and holding me. "I miss being me. I miss you. All the time.

We are not ourselves anymore, we've lost a little something.

It was as though, in one moment, he had become a stranger. And I a stranger to myself.

I was lingering out on the pavement. There was a missing person inside of myself and I needed to find him . . . I felt done for, an empty burned-out wreck . . . Wherever I am, I'm a '60s troubadour, a folk-rock relic, a wordsmith from bygone days, a fictitious head of state from a place nobody knows.

In fact, the likeliest reason why so many of us care so little about politics is that modern politicians makes us sad, hurt us deep down in ways that are hard even to name, much less talk about.

I quit Paris unwillingly, because I must part from my friends; and I quit the country unwillingly, because I must part from myself.

My chest ached, my body speaking a language my head didn't quite understand. I waited. But Grace, the only person in the world I wanted to know me, just ran a wanting finger over the cover of one of the new hardcovers and walked out of the store without ever realising I was there, right within reach.

There’s a difference between losing something you knew you had and losing something you discovered you had. One is a disappointment. The other feels like losing a piece of yourself.

The greatest hazard of all, losing one’s self, can occur very quietly in the world, as if it were nothing at all. No other loss can occur so quietly; any other loss - an arm, a leg, five dollars, a wife, etc. - is sure to be noticed.

A nickname is not supposed to be your only name. I miss Jennifer a bit.

God's Heart is especially tender toward the downtrodden and the defeated. He knows your name and He has seen every tear you have shed.

I am not at home in myself. I am my own stranger.

Missing you? I could cheerfully murder you.

I'm not sure what I am anymore... Sometimes I think I'm nothing but what other people have done to me―a big collection of brainwashing, surgeries, and cures... That, and all the mistakes I've made. All the people I've disappointed.

I still cry on waking. I'm not sure why. I feel nothing. Nothing I can name, anyway. It's like breathing - something that happens over which I have no control. (6)

Americans want beauties, not me. I’m not the Parisian bombshell they expected. Can you see me as a chorus girl? Where’s my feather up the ass? They think I’m sad, they’re dumb. I don’t connect to them

And here I am, instead of there. I'm sitting in this library, thousands of miles from my life, writing another letter I know I won't be able to send, no matter how hard I try and how much I want to. How did that boy making love behind that shed become this man writing this letter at this table?