Quotes About Solitude

He never read a book but often thought about God; it was unavoidable, a matter of simplicity and awe. The starry sky, the soughing of the forest, the solitude, the big snow, the majesty of the earth and what was above the earth filled him with a deep devoutness many times a day. He was sinful and godfearing; on Sundays he washed himself in honour of the holy day but worked as usual.

La conciencia de mi honradez se me subió a la cabeza, tuve el sentimiento grandioso de que yo era un carácter, un faro completamente blanco en medio del mar cenagoso de los hombres, un mostrenco extraordinario.

Og intet Rop, intet Menneskes Ord hørtes noget Sted, ingenting, men bare det tunge Sus omkring mit Hode.

Se nu er jeg borte fra byens larm og trængsel og aviser og mennesker, jeg er flygtet fra det altsammen fordi det igjen kaldte på mig fra landet og ensomheten hvor jeg er fra. Du skal se det kommer til å gå godt! Tænker jeg og har atter det bedste håp. Ak jeg har gjort en slik flugt før og er atter vendt tilbake til byen. Og atter flyktet.

Og jeg var så kjær i ham, å hele verden blev borte når han kom. Jeg husker en mand som kunde komme gående! Han hadde fuldskjæg, han var som et dyr, han stanset iblandt og holdt den ene fot oppe og lyttet, så gik han videre. Han brukte også skindklær.

I de siste Dager har jeg tænkt og tænkt paa Nordlandssommerens evige Dag. Jeg sitter her og tænker paa den og paa en Hytte som jeg bodde i og paa Skogen bak Hytten og jeg gir mig til at skrive noget ned for at forkorte Tiden og for min Fornøielses Skyld.

Fra min Hytte kunde jeg se et Virvar av Øer og Holmer og Skjær, litt av Sjøen, nogen blaanende Fjældtinder, og bak Hytten laa Skogen, en uhyre Skog. Jeg blev fuld av Glæde og Tak ved Duften av Røtter og Løv, av den fete Os av Furuen, som minder om Lukten av Marv; først i Skogen kom alt indeni mig i Stilhet, min Sjæl blev egal og fuld av Magt.

Solen er forlængst dukket under synsranden, fjældene er blit hvitlig grønne, de ser ut i sin fjærnhet og i sin vælde som en verden for sig selv.

Edevart var alene mand om alt om bord og på land... han skulde nok ha hat nogen til å koke mat for sig; men også det fik gå som det kunde, han levet på tørmat og kaffe og klaget ikke over kostholdet.

Går De her og tenker? Nei, svarer han. Om jeg tenker? Nei jeg går her bare.

Det er ingen herlighet til som suset i skogen, det er som å gynge, det er som galskap; Uganda, Tananarivo, Honolulu, Atacama, Venezuela -

I found a bench to myself and began chewing savagely at my lunch. It did me good; it had been a long time since I'd had such a well-balanced meal and I gradually became aware of the same feeling of tired peace which one feels after a long cry. My courage had now returned; it was not enough any longer to write an essay on something so elementary and simple-minded as "Crimes of the Future," which any ass could arrive at, let alone read in history books.

En hytte – den stod, som i tanker – var muret til fjeldsidens væg; den stod der, hvor rovdyret vanker tog stød af en ældgammel hæg. Naar stormen tog fart op til riften, var stenhyttens ejer ej glad; da tog han die hellihge schriften – og knælte saa ned og tilbad

You are welcome to your intellectual pastimes and books and art and newspapers; welcome, too, to your bars and your whisky that only makes me ill. Here i am in the forest, quite content

For meg hører skogen og ensomheten til.

Thus, he walks and walks in his wilderness, a futile, foolish trek made not in order to arrive somewhere but simply and solely in order to be one of those who walk in the wilderness. And this work of his is a life sentence.

I had noticed very clearly that every time I went hungry a little too long it was as though my brains simply ran quietly out of my head and left me empty. My head became light and floating. I could no longer feel its weight on my shoulders, and I had the sense that my eyes were remaining far too open when I looked at anything.

He was hungry, and his first thought was to collect a dozen or two gulls' eggs to make a meal. But embryo chicks were forming in all of them. So he rowed out to do some fishing and was more succesful. He lived on fish from day to day and sang and whiled the time away and ruled over the island. When it rained he too shelter beneath a splendid overhangig rock. At night he slept on a patch of grass and the sun never set.

When it got dark I jogged along to the Town Hall--God knows how I got there--and sat on the edge of the balustrade. I tore a pocket out of my coat and took to chewing it; not with any defined object, but with dour mien and unseeing eyes, staring straight into space.

Imagine a pitch-black room with a single candle lit in the center, he said, his voice gone low. The room is the world. You are the candle.

Still, Kaderin sighed, unable to help feeling very old and very alone.

What you are when you are alone with God, that you are— and nothing more.

Then we were quiet. Quiet isn't easy. Especially with virtual strangers. They say that nature hates a vacuum, and so it's kind of natural to want to fill up a human silence with words—any kind of lame words. But there was such a feeling of space around us that my first self-conscious word died long before I ever felt it on my tongue.

It is easy to disappear when no one is looking at you.