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
waiting world up-to-you
There is no ideal world for you to wait around for. The world is always just what it is now, and it's up to you how you respond to it.
light waiting feelings
He is spent. His mind is mercury again, its brief surge of humanity melting into an oily residue on its surface, and he no longer understands the feelings he felt in that strange moment on the overpass. But he did feel them. They did happen. They rest on the murky seabed of his mind, buried under sand and silt and miles of grey waves. Patient seeds waiting for light.
echoes people waiting
Are my words ever actually audible, or do they just echo in my head while people stare at me, waiting?
moving waiting world
You know things are moving. You're changing, you fellow Dead are changing, the world is ready for something miraculous. What are we waiting for?
feet waiting generations
Deep under our feet the Earth holds its molten breath, while the bones of countless generations watch us and wait.
crazy thinking waiting
I adapt to things quickly, including good things, which I wish I could shut off sometimes. My friends have to keep reminding me how crazy my life has become, and then it hits me fresh and I just slap my forehead and think, "Wait, what... ?"
becoming ended personal
'Warm Bodies' ended up becoming one of the most personal relatable things I've written.
what-matters next matter
We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.
memories communication writing
Writing isn't letters on paper. It's communication. It's memory.
hard
It's hard to take your life so seriously when you can see it all at once.
mistake responsibility judgement
One mistake, one brief lapse of my new found judgement-that's all it took to unravel everything. What a massive responsibility, being a moral creature.
stupid rawness want
I want life and in all its stupid sticky rawness.
winter lasts firsts
Last winter, when so many Living joined the Dead and our prey became scarce, I watched some of my friends become full-dead. The transition was undramatic. They just slowed down, then stopped, and after a while I realised they were corpses. It disquieted me at first, but it’s against etiquette to notice when one of us dies. I distracted myself with some groaning.
heart hug necks
She hugs me. It's tentative at first, a little scared, and yes, a little repulsed, but then she melts into it. She rests her head against my cold neck and embraces me. Unable to believer what's happening, I put my arm around her and just hold her. I almost swear I can feel my heart thumping. But it must just be hers, pressed tightly against my chest.