Quotes About Solitude

I am alone. It is evening. There is a light fog. The sky is covered by a thin milky-golden tissue. If I only knew what is there—higher. If I only knew who I am. Which I am I?

The moon, our own, earthly moon is bitterly lonely, because it is alone in the sky, always alone, and there is no one to turn to, no one to turn to it. All it can do is ache across the weightless airy ice, across thousands of versts, toward those who are equally lonely on earth, and listen to the endless howling of dogs. ("A Story About The Most Important Thing")

The crowdedness of family life and the faithfulness of solitude - both brave decisions, or both decisions of cowardice - make little dent, in the end, on the profound and perplexing loneliness in which every human heart dwells.

we are solitary travelers, having crossed paths in the land of stories.

Night for those sound sleepers was a cocoon against time. For me, I wanted to believe, it was even better. Time, at night, was my possession, not the other way around.

Reading, however, is a kind of private freedom: out of time, out of place.

Still, being alone doesn't mean you have to be miserable. In that sense it's different from losing something. You've still got yourself, even if you lose everything else. You've got to have faith in yourself and not get down just because you're on your own.

Being alone is very difficult.

The pleasantest of all diversions is to sit alone under the lamp, a book spread out before you, and to make friends with people of a distant past you have never known.

I just have to make it to the Tuichi' I mumbled to myself, 'I just have to make it to the Tuichi'. Alone, deep in the jungle, so small and insignificant, pitted against nature, still I sensed someone was watching me. Or watching over me.Someone could see me, someone was providing for me

Now, there is no harm in a teapot, even if it contains tea, if it is let alone.

O sacred solitude! divine retreat! Choice of the prudent! envy of the great, By thy pure stream, or in thy waving shade, We court fair wisdom, that celestial maid.

I was completely alone in a vortex of rain and wild winds. Forests stretched for miles around in a raging sea of darkness. They were no longer themselves, but the embodiment of all brutality. The entire forest roiled and roared, wringing every ounce of violence from its branches.

A month alone behind closed doors forgotten books, remembered, clear again. Poems come, like water to the pool Welling, up and out, from perfect silence

Once I had started my solitude I realised anew that it was easy for me to become accustomed to this state and that the most effortless existence for me was in fact one in which I was not obliged to speak to anyone. My fretful attitude to life left me. Each dead day had its charm

Non mi curavo di nulla, e d'altronde nulla si curava di me.

He never made fun of her as her neighbors did. That was why she visited him. He felt in this mad, ugly woman five years his senior a comrade in apartness. He liked people who refused to recognize the world.

Because the fact of not being understood by other people had become my only real source of pride, I was never confronted by any impusle to express things and to make others understand something that I knew. I thought that those things which could be seen by others were not ordained for me. My solitude grew more and more obese, just like a pig.

The odd thing is that only lonely people have a tendency to festoon their abodes with extravagant items.

He had lost Satoko. And with that he was content. For by now he had learned how to quiet even his subsequent resentment. Every show of feeling was now governed with a marvelous economy. If a candle has burned brilliantly but now stands alone in the dark with its flame extinguished, it need no longer fear that its substance will dissolve into hot wax. For the first time in his life, Kiyoaki came to realize the healing powers of solitude.

It was a bright, quiet garden, without striking features. Like a rosary rubbed between the hands, the shrilling of cicadas held sway. There was no other sound. The garden was empty. He had come, thought Honda, to a place that had no memories, nothing. The noontide sun of summer flowed over the still garden.

There was no other sound. The garden was empty. He had come, thought Honda, to a place with no memories, nothing. The noontide sun of summer flowered over the still garden.

Good thing I brought my haze of emptiness!

I'm so secluded. Very alone.