Quotes About Solitude

L'amour est un châtiment. Nous sommes punis de n'avoir pas pu rester seuls.

Yaln?zl?k... Onlar?n inand??? gibi inanm?yorum, onlar?n yaÅŸad??? gibi yaÅŸam?yorum, onlar?n sevdiÄŸi gibi sevmiyorum... Onlar?n öldüÄŸü gibi öleceÄŸim.

Je m'accordais, chaque soir, un moment de musique qui n'était qu'à moi seul. Certes, ce plaisir solitaire est un plaisir stérile, mais aucun plaisir n'est stérile lorsqu'il remet notre être d'accord avec la vie. (p. 80-81)

Fui solo. Poi la solitudine mi spaventò. Non si è mai del tutto soli: disgraziatamente si è sempre con se stessi.

mind her when I'm away?' I stayed overnight in

of the short journey passed in silence.

Sometimes nothing is the very best thing one can do.

The cure for loneliness is solitude.

There are certain winter days when bed and bath seem to be the only two tolerable places in the world.

It's far better to be unhappy alone than unhappy with someone — so far.

You best keep to yourself, except you never can.

It's strange how you never quite get used to the world at night.

She had told herself more than once not to call it loneliness, since it wasn't any different from one year to the next, it was just how her body felt, like hungry or tired, except it was always there, always the same.

Her name had the likeness of a name. She had the likeness of a woman, with hands but no face at all, since she never let herself see it. She had the likeness of a life, because she was all alone in it. She lived in the likeness of a house, with walls and a roof and a door that kept nothing in and nothing out.

when I see a man or woman alone, he or she looks mysterious to me, which is only to say that for a moment I see another human being clearly.

Doll may have been the loneliest woman in the world, and she was the loneliest child, and there they were, the two of them together, keeping each other warm in the rain.

I don't know why solitude would be a balm for loneliness, but that is how it always was for me in those days

I've often been sorry to see a night end, even while I have loved seeing the dawn come.

My own dark time, as I call it, the time of my loneliness, was most of my life, as I have said, and I can't make any real account of myself without speaking of it.

It was another cabin with a stoop, and a dooryard beaten bare.

Some of them seem to be a kind of wilderness unto themselves. But there must be angels there, too, and springs of water. Even that wilderness, the very habitation of jackals, is the Lord's. I need to bear this in mind.

walking along beside him that night, along that rutted road, through that empty world—what a sweet strength I felt, in him, and in myself, and all around us.

You, she said. He laughed. Who else? She said, Nobody else in this world.

In retrospect, I'm very grateful for whatever reluctance it was that kept me alone until your mother came. Now that I look back, it seems to me that in all that deep darkness a miracle was preparing. So I am right to remember it as a blessed time, and myself as waiting in confidence, even if I had no idea what I was waiting for.