Quotes About Solitude

If loneliness is the disease, the story is the cure.

Thinking hard about you I got on the bus and paid 30 cents car fare and asked the driver for two transfers before discovering that I was alone.

There he lived in solitary grandeur, eating and sleeping alone (and these were his principal occupations), and communing with his own dignity

And he pictured her down below, turning slowly in the currents, her skin pale blue in the cold rays of sunlight slanting down through the water, her hair flowing lazily around her face.

F]or there are times when bed is the only place on earth where peace is to be had, and that was one of them.

Man is a coward in space, for he is by himself.

So I kissed her, and went out, and up on top of the mountain to have peace, for I had a grudge that was savage with heat against everybody, and only up on top there, where it was green, and high, and blue, and quiet, with only the winds to come at you, was a place of rest, where the unkindness of man for man could be forgotten, and I could wait for God to send calm and wisdom, and O, a blessed ease.

In nature, a child finds freedom, fantasy, and privacy: a place distant from the adult world, a separate peace.

Quiet is here and all in me. (Dress of White Silk)

For he was a man and he was alone and these things had no importance to him.

I don the robe of hermit without a cry.

The death of someone with whom a person has been long and closely associated leaves a literal vacuum in that person's life

This, he knew, was courage, the truest, ultimate courage, because there was no one here to sympathize or praise him for it. What he felt was felt without the hope of commendation.

Siempre, a pesar de todo, había deseado encontrar a un semejante: hombre, mujer, niño, no importaba. Sin la incesante influencia de las masas, el sexo perdía rápidamente importancia. En cambio, la soledad seguía en primera línea.

The last man in the world was irretrievably stuck with his delusions.

He knew he should burn up the paper plates and utensils too, and dust the furniture and wash out the sinks and the bathtub and toilet, and change the sheets and pillowcase on his bed; but he didn't feel like it. For he was a man and he was alone and these things had no importance to him.

Time had lost its multidimensional scope. There was only the present for Robert Neville; a present based on dayto-day survival, marked by neither heights of joy nor depths of despair. I am predominantly vegetable, he often thought to himself. That was the way he wanted it

Then he sat down beside the casket and rested his forehead against its cold metal side. Silence held him in its cold and gentle hands.

Silence held him in its cold and gentle hands.

A woman sits on the ground, leaning against a pine. Its bark presses hard against her back, as hard as life. Its needles scent the air and a force hums in the heart of the wood. Her ears tune down to the lowest frequencies. The tree is saying things, in words before words.

An old man, I want only peace. The things of this world mean nothing. I know no good way to live and I can't stop getting lost in my thoughts, my ancient forests. The wind that waves the pines loosens my belt. The mountain moon lights me as I play my lute.

He stayed inside his perfect silence, hung on the stopped, forward edge of nowhere

When removed from their kind, individual human beings can change in remarkable ways .

Reading is the last act of secular prayer.