Quotes About Solitude

Profound silence would brood over the valley, even weighing down our spirits with indefinable heaviness. There can be no other place in the world where man feels himself so alone, so isolated, so completely ignored by nature, so incapable of entering into communion with her

But there are tears in my eyes and then I can't stop crying, stood there on that practice pitch in the dark, the tears rolling down my bloody cheeks, for once in my fucking life glad that I'm alone.

I wanted to sleep for a thousand years, to wake up when them and their like were gone, when I didn't have their dirty black ink on my fingers, in my blood.

Friends will keep you sane, Love could fill your heart, A lover can warm your bed, But lonely is the soul without a mate.

The only thing that makes one an artist is making art. And that requires the precise opposite of hanging out; a deeply lonely and unglamorous task of tolerating oneself long enough to push something out.

Beings as complex as ourselves need retreats from others to explore the depths of our character and our destiny. We need regular periods of solitude to replenish ourselves, to locate new sources of creativity and self-knowledge, and to discover possibilities in our souls that are invisible when we are with others.

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn In the peace of their self-content; There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart In a fellowless firmament; There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths Where highways never ran; But let me live by the side of the road, And be a friend to man. —Samuel Walter Foss

If you are antisocial, far northern Maine is the place for you. Of course, other preferences and characteristics besides not liking to have people around would help as well. You should be rugged, like living off the land, not care very much about eating out and cable TV, and have a healthy disdain for paved roads.

Misery is too self-absorbed to want much company.

It was a long, long time since anyone had hugged him, so he hugged himself.

Spending so much time alone had turned Chloe's imagination into a deep dark forest. It was a magical place to escape to, and so much more thrilling than real life.

As Jack listened at the top of the stairs, a tear welled in his eye, and rolled very slowly down his cheek. 8

Soon they would spend all day there, locked up inside the truck, reading undisturbed. There were no windows but there were thousands of windows, in every book on every shelf.

Walking the roads is enough today, I'll follow the dark line of receding sun

Alone, we live in our bodies as a question rather than a statement.

To be alone for any length of time is to shed an outer skin. The body is inhabited in a different way when we are alone than when we are with others. Alone, we live in our bodies as a question rather than a statement.

The first step in spending time alone is to admit how afraid of it we are.

It's just a real gentle moment. I'm here by myself and I don't mind. I kind of wish it could just stay like this for maybe a few years, or I just never moved out of this spot. I could just watch the light stay like this. And maybe somebody coming along and just putting their arms around me for a few minutes.

Raskolnikov realised in that moment that it was no longer possible for him to talk to anyone about anything, ever.

The voice in the wilderness echoes in eternity because it isn't drowned by temporal applause

The world and its institutions engulf and suffocate us. We runners find our sanctuary in retreating to the roadways and trails, our sacred reprieve. The wonder isn't that we go; it's that we come back.

Sometimes there is no darker place than our thoughts, the moonless midnight of the mind.

She left me then, surrounded by my extravagantly simple finery and I sat for a long time, uncomfortable both with the person I had been and the person I was finally becoming. Caught between the two of them, I felt rather lonely, as one often does with a new acquaintance.

He was entirely happy alone. He had his books and his music and his specimens, and that was all he needed. He also carried on a wide correspondence. His friends were far flung across the globe, but none of them intimate.