Quotes About Solitude

It is never very crowded at the front.

Apricots are the most private fruit, loath to reveal their secrets.

I want my funeral to be uncomfortably quiet.

To duplicate meanings is to isolate the consciousness.

Five A.M., that's the best time, when the clicking of your heels on the sidewalk sounds illicit.

He thought he suddenly understood. For the Lincon-shire sergeant-major the word Peace meant that a man could stand up on a hill. For him it meant someone to talk to.

AT the slight creaking made by Macmaster in pushing open his door, Tietjens started violently. He was sitting in a smoking-jacket, playing patience engrossedly in a sort of garret bedroom. It had a sloping roof outlined by black oak beams, which cut into squares the cream-coloured patent distemper of the walls.

And Paris, when you avoid the more conspicuous resorts, and when you are unprovided with congenial companionship can prove nearly as overwhelming as is, say, Birmingham on a Sunday.

Seemed like you could stretch out your arms on either side and touch the mountains. Straight up they went, dark and feathered with treetops, and left a thin slice of stars above us. Way off, a mourning dove called, long and throaty, and the mountains picked it up and echoed the sound over and over, carrying it farther and farther away until you wondered how many mountains and hollows that call would travel--and it died away, so far, it was more like a memory than a sound.

Du moins, sur ce trottoir où je t'abandonne,j'ai l'espérance que tu n'es pas seule.

alcoves, and once or twice he sat down

She did not care very much for other little girls, but if she had plenty of books she could console herself.

People never like me and I never like people

One marvel of a day he had walked so far that when he returned the moon was high and full and all the world was purple shadow and silver.

She did not care very much for other little girls, but if she had plenty of books she could console herself. She liked books more than anything else, and was, in fact, always inventing stories of beautiful things and telling them to herself.

I wish I was friends with things, he said at last, but I'm not. I never had anything to be friends with, and I can't bear people.

The mere fact that Lottie had come and gone away again made things seem a little worse-just as perhaps prisoners feel a little more desolate after visitors come and go, leaving them behind.

It's a lonely place. Sometimes it's the loneliest place in the world.

Sara went to it and sat down. She was a queer child, as I have said before, and quite unlike other children. She seldom cried. She did not cry now. She laid her doll, Emily, across her knees, and put her face down upon her, and her arms around her, and sat there, her little black head resting on the black crape, not saying one word, not making one sound.

Everything as strange and silent, and she seemed to be hundreds of miles away from anyone, but somehow she did not feel lonely at all.

It used to seem as if she had all the sky and the world to herself.

curled herself up in the window-seat, opened a book, and began to read.

She was a friendly creature, and lived a life so really isolated from any ordinary companionship that her simple little talks with Jane and Mrs. Cupp were a pleasure to her. The Cupps were neither gossiping nor intrusive, and she felt as if they were her friends. Once when she had been ill for a week she remembered suddenly realising that

She lay and listened to the quietness.