Quotes About Solitude

Fife... simply walked off by himself, into the jungle to look at all the things which would continue to exist after he had ceased to. There were a lot of them. Fife looked at them all. They remained singularly unchanged by his scrutiny.

Mr. Duffy lived a short distance from his body.

Hair of the dog and to keep me company I made a drink.

Too much time alone had done something peculiar to his heart: A confused and unreliable organ at best, it now held something akin to joy.

There is no Beatitude for the lonesome. The Book doesn't say they are blessed.

He questioned his monastic vocation as much as he embraced it. He desired solitude as much as he craved attention and affection from his brothers. He sought intimacy with others as much as he treasured his chastity. He battled with his religious superiors as much as he hoped to follow his vow of obedience. Most of all, he wished for fame and influence as much as he saw that humility was the foundation for a healthy monastic life.

We are gradually losing the art of silence. Of walking down the street lost in our own thoughts. Of closing the door to our rooms and being quiet. Of sitting on a park bench and just thinking. We may fear silence because we fear what we might hear from the deepest parts of ourselves. We may be afraid to hear that "still small" voice. What might it say? Might it ask us to change?

Sometimes, when we feel the greatest need to be alone, it's the moment we should most welcome the company of others.

The rare few, who, early in life, have rid themselves of the friendship of the many.

Era norocoas? c? se afla acolo, pentru c? el era singurul b?rbat de pe p?mânt. CeilalÈ›i erau doar figurine de lut cu încheieturi urâte ÅŸi g?urele ca de ac în loc de ochi ÅŸi cu inimi de carne. El era singurul viu cu adev?rat.

He climbed through the vast stillness, alone...and yet somehow, he knew, no longer alone. For now his two fathers climbed with him.

And as for those who might have been following me, odds are I lost them long, long ago. Nothing to do but keep on driving as clearly as if I hadn't, flashing my change of lane and exit, in case there's anyone who needs to know.

Solitude is as needful to the imagination as society is wholesome for the character.

Solitude is as needed to the imagination as society is wholesome to the character.

There is no bore we dread being left alone with so much as our own minds.

The nurse of full-grown souls is solitude.

The mind can weave itself warmly in the cocoon of its own thoughts, and dwell a hermit anywhere.

You are not alone. You are instead lonely. There is loneliness as can exist only in the midst of numbers and numbers of people who don't know you, who don't care about you, who won't let you care about them.

I once read a story by this guy named Harlan Ellison ending: That night it rained, everywhere in the known universe. I was never too sure what the ending meant in terms of Ellison's story, but anyone who sits alone in a motel room for hours, watching the rain wash the world away, begins to understand. Knows what it feels like.

As I look back, I see that life is like a game of solitaire and every once in a while there is a move.

There are people who have too much space between their ears, and given the time, do nothing but free fall forever inside their head. It's a spooky thing to be left alone inside an angry innerverse.

It's a spooky thing to be left alone inside an angry innerverse.

Speaking from experience, there are people who have too much space between their ears, and given the time, do nothing but free fall forever inside their heads.

Two is company, four is a party, three is a crowd. One is a wanderer.