escape

Escapers were the cream of the crop.

I was a good lawyer , and most days that was enough. I was aware, however, that I took refuge in my profession, as unlikely as that seemed considering the amount of human suffering I dealt with. It offered me a role to escape into, from what I no longer knew; perhaps nothing more significant than my own little ration of suffering.

And you wanted to escape,' a man near me whispered to another man. 'You wanted to run off into the woods and fight. But do you see? Do you see what the rest of them think about us? These people would sell you back to the Nazis for a sack of potatoes and then toast you at their dinner table.

Once we were alone, Imogen unfolded her hand. In it, she held the key to the chains. I had passed it to her while we were in the embrace. Roden noticed it and scowled. "You gave her the key and not me? I could be free already."I smiled at him. "Yes, but I wasn't going to kiss you.""Fair enough

Angling is just a way of relaxing and escaping in the countryside.

But if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in.

Please,_ Neil shook the stinging fluid out of his eyes. Don__ beg. You__l appear weak DO NOT BEG. __lease, I__ begging you. Don__ take my bike. It__ all I have left and I ... I ..._ he looked behind him in the direction of the city, __ can__ go back.

Sometimes all you know about where you're going is that it's away from where you are.

I came to this city to escape.

Jess." He whispers. "That was far from manhandling you sweetheart. I'm just claiming what I want, and make no mistake," He places tender kisses along my jaw leading down to my neck. "I. Always. Get. What. I. Want." He breathes in between kisses. "You would do pretty well to remember that." -Max Wild

When you talk about escape, know that it doesn__ take place from the front. Hidden paths are always on the back.

So I pulled the sun screen down and squinted and put the throttle to the floor. And kept on moving west. For West is where we all plan to go some day. It is where you go when the land gives out and the oldfield pines encroach. It is where you go when you get the letter saying: Flee, all is discovered. IT is where you go when you look down at the blade in your hand and see the blood on it. It is where you go when you are told that you are a bubble on the tide of empire. It is where you go when you hear that thar's gold in them-thar hills. It is where you go to grow up with the country. It is where you go to spend your old age. Or it is just where you go.

Escape the repetitive whirl wind that life can become through complacency.

If all we seek is an escape, what does that say about the world we live in. We are desperate with our dreams. What - oh, what - does that say?

If only they let me, I'll go right into the dense forest where you can't find your way. And where the honey-sipping hummingbird rocks himself on the end of the thinnest branch, I will flower out as a champa.

We need the possibility of escape as surely as we need hope.

I thought about all the people who'd had to do this through history. The millions taking flight from disasters, fleeing tyrannical despots, making exodus from pogroms, escaping waring soldiers and pouring out of bombed cities. What had kept them going was the promise of safe haven, whether in some sprawling refugee camp or under the protection of a friendly army. We didn't have that.

Jesus, I__ not going to be one of those people who sits around talking about what they__e gonna do. I__ just going to do it. Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia._ __uh?_ I asked. __ou spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you__l escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.