Quotes About Solitude

I gave of myself to the night and the night filled me

I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed! Thus, in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me. —THOMAS MOORE

I'm in a pocket of glowing light, protected from complicated relationships and huge mistakes, past and future.

Death smashes a crater into your life, and you're left alone to sort through the rubble.

Maybe this is hell, I thought: alone in my house in the middle of the night, stuck in an endless loop of thermal discomfort.

It was freezing and dark out, and Miriam's house was homey and warm, and the idea of not being alone another night sounded rather nice.

Imagination was all very well in the daylight, but it was an uncomfortable thing late at night.

The loneliness is the mother of wisdom.

In solitude the mind gains strength and learns to lean upon itself.

Dinner alone is one of life's pleasures. Certainly cooking for oneself reveals man at his weirdest. People lie when you ask them what they eat when they are alone. A salad, they tell you. But when you persist, they confess to peanut butter and bacon sandwiches deep fried and eaten with hot sauce, or spaghetti with butter and grape jam.

My thoughts amuse me.

The one good thing about being kind of shy is that nobody bugs you when you want to be left alone.

You must walk alone to find your soul.

I won't take a real nap. I have this halfway place, a rest stop on the road to sleep, where I can stay for hours. I don't even need to close my eyes, just stay safe under the covers and breathe.

I am an iceberg drifting toward the edge of the map.

I can never tell with moments of silence. They're so... silent. Empty.

I am an iceberg drifting towards the edge of the map

I have this halfway place, a rest stop on the road to sleep, where I can stay for hours. I don't even need to close my eyes, just stay safe under the covers and breathe.

I try to read while eating alone, but the noise gets between my eyes and the page and I can't see through it.

Hawthorne wanted snow to symbolize cold, that's what I think. Cold and silence. Nothing quieter than snow. The sky screams to deliver it, a hundred banshees flying on the edge of the blizzard. But once the snow covers the ground, it hushes as still as my heart.

The house was still, weighty with the comfort of a thousand books.

Life has ill-prepared me for finding any enjoyment in a press of merrymakers.

Normally, one is only conscious of the room around one, but when no-one else is present, one's awareness is free to fill all the space.

Isolate her, and however abundant the food or favourable the temperature, she will expire in a few days not of hunger or cold, but of loneliness.