Quotes by Isaac Marion

What is left of us? … No countries, no cultures, no wars but still no peace. What’s at our core, then? What’s still squirming in our bones when everything else is stripped?

To be or not to be, that is the question: to go on living, fighting against this sea of troubles, or to die and end everything? Why be afraid of death? To die is to sleep, no more. Perhaps to dream? Yes, thats the problem: in that sleep of death, what dreams will come?

You won’t starve, R. In my short life I made so many choices just because I thought they were required, but my dad was right: there’s no rule book for the world. It’s in our heads, our collective human hive-mind. If there are rules, we’re the ones making them. We can change them whenever we want to.

I mean obviously, staying alive is pretty fucking important . . . but there’s got to be something beyond that, right?

Thats 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.

I try to think of things to say but nothing comes, and if something did come I probably couldnt say it. This is my great obstacle, the biggest of all the boulders littering my path. In my mind I am eloquent; I can climb intricate scaffolds of words to reach the highest cathedral ceilings and paint my thoughts. But when I open my mouth, it all collapses.

I wish I could read what shes written there. Instead, I pretend the letters are stars. The words, constellations.

Even as I think them, the words lose their context, dissolve into grains of absurdity in the vast ocean of day-to-day hunger.

We will cry and bleed and lust and love, and we will cure death. We will be the cure. Because we want it.

...thinking all this maximalism would somehow generate happiness?

Of course, if I eat all of him, if I spare his brain, hell rise up and follow me back to the airport, and that might make feel better. Ill introduce him to everyone, and maybe well stand around and groan for a while. Its hard to say what friends are any more, but that might be close.

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.

So if existence was just binary, dead or alive, here or not here, what would be the fucking point in anything? My mom used to say thats why we have memory. And the opposite of memory--hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can build off our pasts and make futures.

My mom used to say that’s why we have memory. And the opposite of memory—hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can build off our pasts and make futures.

Well we have to. We have to remember everything. If we don’t, by the time we grow up it’ll be gone forever.

I’m alone, stumbling through the city in the dark, trying not to let the night freeze my blood.

Sex, once a law as undisputed as gravity, has been disproved. The equation is erased, the blackboard broken

You and I are victims of the same disease. Were fighting the same war, just different battles in different theaters, and its way too late for me to hate you for anything, because were the same damn thing. My soul, your conscience, whatevers left of me woven into whatevers left of you, all tangled up and conjoined. Were in this together, corpse.

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.

Some part of me remembers what snow is, but this is the first time my new mind has seen it. It softens the crumbled sidewalks and turns rusty rooftops white. It’s beautiful. It crunches under my feet as I move toward the house, longing to understand.