Quotes About Solitude

I'm sitting up in the bed with my knees pulled to my chest and there are tears that won't come to my eyes but beat instead like a small sea around my heart.

It's lovely to know the world can't interfere with the inside of your head.

It's lovely to know the world can't interfere with the inside of your head.

I love the rain. It helps me think.

It is my opinion that the isolated mind loses its purchase on reality all too easily and becomes prone to fantasy.

When you're up there hundreds of people will claim you as a friend. When you're down, you're lucky if one will buy you a cup of coffee.

Love you. A stranger accidentally text messaged me the other day. I didn't delete it. I look at it before I go to bed at night and sometimes during the day. I know it wasn't meant for me... but it's nice to pretend it was.

I don't feel entirely alone when I go through the postcards on your website, or rather, I still feel alone, but I feel like there are a lot more people alone with me.

I need solitude for my writing; not 'like a hermit' - that wouldn't be enough - but like a dead man.

I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more

Just think how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm.

I have hardly anything in common with myself and should stand very quietly in a corner, content that I can breathe.

Being alone has a power over me that never fails. My interior dissolves (for the time being only superficially) and is ready to release what lies deeper. When I am willfully alone, a slight ordering of my interior begins to take place and I need nothing more.

Everyone carries a room about inside him. This fact can even be proved by means of the sense of hearing. If someone walks fast and one pricks up one's ears and listens, say in the night, when everything round about is quiet, one hears, for instance, the rattling of a mirror not quite firmly fastened to the wall.

And I leave my post of observation and find I have had enough of this outside life; I feel that there is nothing more that I can learn here, either now or at any time. And I long to say a last goodbye to everything up here, to go down into my burrow never to return again, let things take their course, and not try to retard them with my profitless vigils.

No, I didn't imagine my being alone with you the way you do. If I want the impossible, I want it in its entirety. Entirely alone, dearest, I wanted us to be entirely alone on this earth, entirely alone under the sky, and to lead my life, my life that is yours, without distraction and with complete concentration, in you.

Don't you want to join us? I was recently asked by an acquaintance when he ran across me alone after midnight in a coffeehouse that was already almost deserted. No, I don't, I said.

Conversations bore me, to visit people bores me, the sorrows and joys of my relatives bore me to my soul.

In a way, I was safe writing

I don't feel particularly proud of myself. But when I walk alone in the woods or lie in the meadows, all is well.

I'll shut myself off from everyone to the point of insensibility. Make an enemy of everyone, speak to no one.

It isn't necessary that you leave home. Sit at your desk and listen. Don't even listen, just wait. Don't wait, be still and alone. The whole world will offer itself to you.

Peaceful moon. I consist only of bones.

The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired. Only after death, only in solitude, does a man's true nature emerge. In death, as on the chimney sweep's Saturday night, the soot gets washed from his body.