Quotes About Solitude

Everyone else is either asleep or having sex. I've been watching cable television and eating jello.

I put my head under my pillow and let the quiet put things where they are supposed to be.

I hope it's the kind of second side that he can listen to whenever he drives alone and feel like he belongs to something whenever he's sad. I hope it can be that for him.

I just laid around in my bed, looking at the ceiling, and i smiled because it was a nice kind of quiet.

After I finished, I just laid around in my bed, looking at the ceiling, and I smiled because it was a nice kind of quiet.

That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that.

And because I don't want to start thinking again

I put the book down and went to the window. I stared at my reflection and the trees behind it for a long time. Not thinking anything. Not hearing the record.

I also thought that if anybody saw me talking out loud when I was alone in the car, their looks might convince me that the something that's wrong with me might be even worse than I thought.

I stared at my reflection and the trees behind it for a long time. Not thinking anything. Not feeling anything. Not hearing the record. For hours.

I guess what I'm saying is that this all feels very familiar. But it's not mine to be familiar about. I just know that another kid has felt this. This one time when it's peaceful outside, and you're seeing things move, and you don't want to, and everyone is asleep. And all the books you've read have been read by other people. And all the songs you've loved have been heard by other people.

I hope it's the kind of second side that he can listen to whenever he drives alone and feel like he belongs to something whenever he's sad.

Then, I turned and walked to my room and closed my door and put my head under a pillow and let the quiet put things where they are supposed to be.

Ves cosas, guardas silencio y entiendes. Eres un marginad

So, I stood alone by the wall and watched the dance for a while. I would describe it to you, but I think it's the kind of thing where you have to be there or at least know the people. But then again, maybe you knew the same people when you went to high school dances, if you know what I mean.

And I've turned corners there was no going back to, corners in the middle of a room that led to Spain or solitude. And always the thin line between corner and cornered, the good corners of bodies and those severe bodies that permit no repose, the places we retreat to, the places we can't bear to be found.

These are the kind of wrong thoughts people have who are spending too much time alone. They start unpacking vast cosmic bullshit from gum wrappers, and then they chew it up, blow a bubble, ride that bubble up into some even stupider place.

Writing is a lonely job. Having someone who believes in you makes a lot if difference. They don't have to makes speeches. Just believing is usually enough.

Sometimes the embers are better than the campfire.

Even the company of the mad was better than the company of the dead.

People with a high tolerance for boredom can get a lot of thinking done.

Once again there was the desert, and that only.

Lying in the bed that had once held two, Lisey thought alone never felt more lonely than when you woke up and discovered you still had the house to yourself. That you and the mice in the walls were the only ones still breathing.

You cannot friend a hawk, they said, unless you are a hawk yourself, alone and only a sojourner in the land, without friends or the need of them.