Quotes About Solitude

Like most book people, there was a shadow in his face, a hollow echo in his laugh, that let you know he'd rather be around books than people. Who could blame him? It was why so many of us were in this business. People had let us down. People had broken our hearts. We liked books and animals and messy rooms full of things that weren't people.

I'd been so alone that I'd thought it was just the feeling of life when it went on too long.

No one will save you," Silette said from his rooftop. "No one will come. You are alone in your search; no friend, no lover, no God from above will come to your aid. Your mysteries are yours alone.

We know that solitude is almost a necessity for creativity and the development of a genuinely and richly autonomous sense of identity.

pulling my leg. Well, don't stay alone here too late

In a heartbeat, he understands why religions are born on the sands – there is nothing here for a man but his own mind.

Lately Mirabelle had reflected wistfully if people even noticed her – a smartly dressed woman who came and went along the Promenade, always alone.

The space where I write is in my head, I suppose.

Writing is such a solitary occupation that it takes a long time to build up a group of professional peers with whom you genuinely identify.

When I am dead, and over me bright April Shakes out her rain drenched hair, Tho you should lean above me broken hearted, I shall not care. For I shall have peace. As leafey trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough. And I shall be more silent and cold hearted Than you are now

The ache of empty arms was an old tale to you.

Autumn Dusk I saw above a sea of hills A solitary planet shine, And there was no one, near or far, to keep the world from being mine.

Down the hill I went, and then, I forgot the ways of men, For night-scents, heady and damp and cool Wakened ecstasy

My room is like a bit of June, Warm and close-curtained fold on fold, But somewhere, like a homeless child, My heart is crying in the cold.

I stood beside a hill Smooth with new-laid snow, A single star looked out From the cold evening glow. There was no other creature That saw what I could see - I stood and watched the evening star As long as it watched me.

I have come to bury Love Beneath a tree, In the forest tall and black Where none can see. I shall put no flowers at his head, Nor stone at his feet, For the mouth I loved so much Was bittersweet. I shall go no more to his grave, For the woods are cold. I shall gather as much of joy As my hands can hold. I shall stay all day in the sun Where the wide winds blow,— But oh, I shall cry at night When none will know.

I saw above a sea of hills A solitary planet shine, And there was no one, near or far, to keep the world from being mine.

When I am all alone Envy me most, Then my thoughts flutter round me In a glimmering host; Some dressed in silver, Some dressed in white, Each like a taper Blossoming light; Most of them merry, Some of them grave, Each of them lithe As willows that wave; Some bearing violets, Some bearing bay, One with a burning rose Hidden away– When I am all alone Envy me then, For I have better friends Than women and men.

we had each other. I never needed anyone else. That's the difference between you and me. You need all these people around you. Your friends, your boyfriend, everyone. Every single person has to like you. I only ever needed one person. Only ever needed you.

Sometimes you weren't supposed to share pain. Sometimes it was best just to deal with it alone.

Every life needs a little space. It leaves room for good things to enter it.

Mamma used to stay at home with her sweet friend, Madame Guerard. She used to read novels whilst Madame Guerard embroidered. They would sit there together without speaking, each dreaming her own dream, seeing it fade away, and beginning it over again.

We can't have a conversation." "I'm being quiet." "Yeah, but I'm sitting alone. This looks weird." "Then don't talk. I'll do a monologue. 'But soft, what light through yonder window breaks--

I had become, with the approach of night, once more aware of loneliness and time - those two companions without whom no journey can yield us anything.