Quotes About Solitude

For now, why not write things down where no one will see it?

Maybe this time I'll do it—let the air carry me away. It will be like floating in a pool, drifting off until there's nothing.

I curl up on my bed, propped against my pillows, books spread across the comforter. Since I stopped writing, I read more than ever. Other people's words, not my own—my words are gone. Right now, I'm into the Brontë sisters.

A land more severely solitary could hardly be found anywhere on the face of the globe. —JOHN MUIR, 1881

Water is peaceful. I am at rest. In the water, I am safe and pulled in where I can't get out. Everything slows down—the noise and the racing of my thoughts.

I run until time stops. Until my mind stops. Until the only thing I feel is the cold metal of the license plate in my hand and the pounding of my blood.

No estás solo. ? Y antes que pueda decirle ‹‹De hecho lo estoy, lo cual no forma parte del problema. Todo estamos solos, atrapados en el interior del cuerpo y de la mente, y sea cual sea la compañía que podamos tener en esta vida, no es más que pasajera y superficial››

You are not alone." Before I can tell him, Actually I am, which is part of the problem; we are all alone, trapped in these bodies and our own minds, and whatever company we have in this life is only fleeting and superficial.

Actually I am, which is part of the problem; we are all alone, trapped in these bodies and our own minds, and whatever company we have in this life is only fleeting and superficial

Penso bem melhor à noite, quando todo mundo está dormindo. Sem interrupções. Gosto da sensação de estar acordado quando ninguém está.

I like the feeling of being awake when no one else is.

I open my eyes and sit straight up , gasping, filling my lungs. I'm happy no one's here to see me, because I'm sputtering and splashing and coughing up water. There's no rush of having survived, only emptiness, and lungs that need air, and wet sticking hair to my face

I do my best thinking at night when everyone else is sleeping. No interruptions. No noise. I like the feeling of being awake when no one else is.

We are all alone, trapped in these bodies and our own minds, and whatever company we have in this life is only fleeting and superficial.

I'd much rather have sat there and just been a fly on the wall, instead of having to smile at people. I'd rather have been a waitress. Just gone round and stared at people.

After all, it's one thing to run away when someone's chasing you. It's entirely another to be running all alone.

A terrible feeling of loneliness besieged her, so strong it was almost like physical pain...

I could do with a bit of piece and quiet.

Polly soaked for a long time, reading her book, until she was warm again from the inside out, then put on her oldest, softest cotton pajamas and woollen socks, and propped herself up at the window to look out at the storm.

Nina had been told regularly since she was a child that she needed more fresh air, at which she would take her book and clamber up the apple tree at the bottom of their tatty garden, away from the car her father was always tinkering with but had never driven in all the years of her childhood—she wondered what had happened to it—and hide there, braced against the trunk, her feet swinging, burying herself in Enid Blyton or Roald Dahl until she was allowed back inside again.

She stared into the distance and tried to think, honestly and properly, about her life: up here where it was clearer, and she could breathe, and she wasn't surrounded by a million people in a great hurry dashing or grabbing or shouting or achieving things in their lives that they plastered all over Facebook and Instagram, making you feel inadequate.

For most of her life, the outdoors had simply been something to shelter from whilst she got on with her reading.

Quando ficava triste, os livros eram seu consolo; quando se sentia só, eles eram seus amigos. Eram eles que cuidavam do seu coração partido e a encorajavam a manter a esperança quando estava na pior.

Up on the Rooftops