Quotes About Solitude

It is when we are faced with death that we turn most bookish.

We were alone. Where, I could not say, hardly imagine. All was black, and such a dense black that, after some minutes, my eyes had not been able to discern even the faintest glimmer.

Wir sind nicht einmal in der Lage, eine Familie zu gründen, geschweige denn, uns mit einer Partei zu identifizieren! [...] Wir wollen keine Gemeinschaft. Wir wollen unsere Ruhe.

Kathrin dachte, dass es manchmal schöner war, der Stimme eines fremden Schriftstellers zu lauschen, als einen real existierenden im Haus zu haben. Nach dem Abendessen würde Wolfi seinen Krieg gegen sich selbst endlich an den Schreibtisch verlegen, und Kathrin könte sich mit einem Buch in ihren Sessel setzen und die Arbeit eines Autors genießen, von dessen Krisen sie nichts wissen musste.

Der Physiker, allein gelassen, erhebt die eigene Existenz zum Zweifelsfall und ermittelt gegen sich selbst.

Smutek saß einfach da, betäubt vom Lärm in seinem Inneren.

I opened a book and in I strode. Now nobody can find me.

I, too, seem to be a connoisseur of rain, but it does not fill me with joy; it allows me to steep myself in a solitude I nurse like a vice I've refused to vanquish.

There's this rushing sound, like white noise. The sound of nothing.

There are lots of different ways grown-ups disappear. It's lonely being the one left behind.

If one didn't have love, was it better, then, to be alone?

Michael nodded tersely, eyeing a table across the room. It was empty. So empty. So joyfully, blessedly empty. He could picture himself a very happy man at that table. "Not feeling very conversational this evening, are we?" Colin asked, breaking into his (admittedly tame) fantasies.

But if she was destined to be alone, even with a husband at her side, then by God she'd be alone and strong.

Just George? Farmer George? Come. Hide from the heavens with me.

Just her and the great outdoors. Gwendolyn Margaret Passmore and a million blades of grass.

he poured himself a glass of whiskey. And another. And another. Not enough to get stinking drunk, just enough to make him overly contemplative.

And then he made haste out the door, making his way to his greenhouse, where he could be alone with his nonspeaking, nonmisbehaving, nonmeddlesome plants.

He halted his words, sinking into a chair, trying very hard to get past the fact that he was perilously close to tears. Right here, in John's study, with this damnable little man who didn't seem to understand that a man had died, not just an earl, but a man, Michael wanted to cry. And he would, he suspected. As soon as Lord Winston left, and Michael could lock the door and make sure that no one could see him, he would probably bury his face in his hands and cry.

And then they left, and all was quiet, but it wasn't peaceful. Just empty.

I'm pretty much a loner. That's not good, bad, or indifferent.

It's an individual sport so you get in the ring on your own and then when you retire you tend to spend the rest of your life on your own.

I'm really not that comfortable with people. I mean, I love individuals, but I'm not very social.

I am such an indoor person.

I'm definitely an indoor kid who's turned into an inside person.