Quotes About Solitude

The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.

Look. I know you're just trying to make friendly conversation to fill an awkward silence between strangers, but I'm not big on friendly conversation, and I don't find silences awkward. In fact I like silences and prefer strangers.

She crumpled into the chair behind the desk and, bending slightly from the waist, hugged her elbows.

Dean Malloy eased himself off the bed. Groping in darkness, he located his underwear on the floor and took it with him into the bathroom. As quietly as he could, he closed the door before switching on the light

gave him a look. Okay. Only to himself

for pleasing to me are meadows and a far view

Being alone is a matter of choice.

For if the will has nothing to employ it and love has no present object with which to busy itself, the soul finds itself without either support or occupation, its solitude and aridity cause it great distress and its thoughts involve it in the severest conflict.

Papá siempre decía que lo que le fascinaba de la pesca era la tranquilidad. De pie en la orilla, rodeado de un bosque de pinos o con medio cuerpo dentro del agua, decía que encontraba la posición perfecta para meditar o simplemente para poner la mente en blanco. Yo ahora sospecho que lo de le gustaba era el silencio. Cada minuto con la boca cerrada era un tiempo ganado a las cosas de las que no quería hablar

I stepped forward, as Màiri once had, until my feet were at the water's edge. I took another step, just a little one, so that the soles of my shoes were submerged. I watched the water swirl around them, then looked up at the loch itself, black and rolling, endlessly deep.

strangely alone in the most public of places.

I m not about to tell him that I am just like Anna and Emma, an adulteress. My books are my secret lovers, the friends I run to to get away from the daily drudgeries of life, to try out something new, and yes, to get away, for a few hours, from him. He doesn't need to know that my books are the affairs I don't have.

She's the only one who knows. Knows what? What it's like to be us.

Her door is cracked only a tiny bit, and her room is dark. Through the crack I can see her legs on the bed and hear her crying. Not like the big sobbing you do when something tragic and unexpected happens. It's the quiet kind of crying that can go for hours, when over and over again you try to stop, try to tell yourself it's going to be okay, but another part of yourself can't stop thinking about the thing that's breaking your heart.

All my life the only reliable person, the one I could count on, the one who hasn't abandoned me, is me.

I'd much rather be eating a bar of chocolate or even something healthy like a lettuce leaf alone at my desk than sitting through this silent, painful meal.

There's something nice about the silence of a car ride in the dark, going home. When you were tired of the radio and conversation, and it was okay to just be alone with your thoughts and the road ahead. If you're that comfortable with someone, you don't have to talk.

I knew this feeling, the 2 a.m. loneliness that I'd practically invented.

Sure, it sucked to be lost, but I'd long ago realized I preferred it to depending on anyone else to get me where I needed to go. That was the thing about being alone, in theory or in principle. Whatever happened- good, bad, or anywhere in between- it was always, if nothing else, all your own.

That was the thing about being on the inside: the world was just going on, even when it seemed like time for you had stopped for good.

In those first few hours officially single again the world seems like it expands, suddenly bigger and more vast now that you have to get through it alone.

But what he didn't understand was that this dreamland was preferable,walking through this life half-sleeping,everything at arm's length or farther away. I understood those mermaids.I didn't care if they sang to me.All I wanted was to block out all the human voices as they called me name again and again,pulling me upward into light,to drown.

All we had was her room, her stories, and the quiet that settled in as we tried in vain to spread ourselves out and fill the space she'd left behind.

its been a long night aren't they all?