Quotes About Solitude

Yes, Miss Ashburn, when at night you had retired from me, I beheld only solitude and imprisonment; and I have waited hours in that forlorn gallery, that I might catch the whisper of your breathings, that the consciousness of being near a friend might restore me to hope, to hilarity, to confidence.

My soul has gained the freedom of the night.

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand Henceforward in thy shadow.

I have done most of my talking by post of late years--as people shut up in dungeons take up with scrawling mottoes on the walls.

We live on just in the same way, having very few visitors, and receiving them in the quietest of hospitalities.

Sentarse tranquilamente bajo la luz de una lámpara con un libro abierto entre las manos, y conversar íntimamente con los hombres de otras generaciones, es un placer que traspasa los límites de lo imaginable

She is covered in sand, only on her right side. There are no clouds. She is alone. Seonag is used to being alone, even when she is surrounded by people.

We went to our separate corners to muse, and mope, and stare thoughtfully out the viewports.

A huge, lonely melancholy welled up inside me as the sheer enormousness of what I was contemplating. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, exactly, so I let it inside.

The white tree on the bluff over the ocean was hung with icicles like curtains of glass, creaking faintly in the wind. Morgan's cottage, once they passed through the icy snowless beech wood, was white as bone and black as aged oak among the weathered stems of the garden.

Serve your own self for a while.

How can I refuse an offer like that? We are all we have. And we are so small, and the night is so large.

Tristen had been alone so long that the affectionate proximity of another organic chipped at his rough edges, like wear smoothing a rusted bearing, and what was left functioned better than the grief-etched surfaces of before.

I did not want to keep talking to her. But I didn't want to be totally alone with only the sound of my own voice in my head to argue with, either.

It was perfectly silent, and perfectly safe, and perfectly warm. And perfectly alone.

Outside, the folded sky of white space-and my time as a free person (was I a free person?)-whisked silently by.

Cold dark deep and absolutely clear,element bearable to no mortal,to fish and to seals…

But they made me realize more than I ever had the rarity of true originality, and also the sort of alienation it might involve.

Screen porch in a tree.

I believe in the oblique, the indirect approach and I keep my feelings to myself.

Being a poet is one of the unhealthier jobs--no regular hours, so many temptations!

Never to lie is to have no lock on your door, you are never wholly alone.

The way one is envisaged by other people - what easier way is there of envisaging oneself? There is a fatalism in one's acceptance of it. Solitude is not the solution, one feels followed. Choice - choice of those who are to surround one, choice of those most likely to see you rightly - is the only escape.

There is a solitude, which each and every one of us has always carried with him, more inaccessible than the ice-cold mountains, more profound than the midnight sea; the solitude of self. Our inner being, which we call ourself, no eye nor touch of man or angel has ever pierced.