Quotes About Solitude

I can't think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time, without interruption, endlessly, even though I feel that here in this world there's no undisturbed place for our love, neither in the village nor anywhere else; and I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more.

Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.

A comedian who starts talking to himself becomes his own audience. This is fatal.

The last time I saw him he was walking down Lover's Lane holding his own hand.

Solitude is different from loneliness, and it doesn't have to be a lonely kind of thing.

It isn't only famous movie stars who want to be alone. Whenever I hear someone speak of privacy, I find myself thinking once again how real and deep the need for such times is for all human beings . . . at all ages.

When I think of solitude, I think of an anecdote from With the Door Open: My Experience by the late Danish religious philosopher Johannes Anker Larsen: "The most comprehensive formula for human culture which I know was given by the old peasant who, on his death bed, obtained from his son this one promise: to sit every day for half an hour alone in the best room.

Very few other people were about. At last, leaning against the outer wall of the Westenra tomb, I managed to pick up a faint radiance of Lucy's encomaed mind within.

No, la vera bellezza ha bisogno di silenzio. Una sola parola può distruggerla. La bellezza, la grande bellezza, può essere dolorosa: ci sono momenti in cui si vuole solo piangere, e il rumore di una voce umana, di una macchina, di una radio, perfino il gracchiare di un corvo possono essere tanto distruttivi quanto un sasso scagliato in uno stagno pieno di ninfee rosse e bianche.

Myths, legends and stories are the signposts previous generations have left us so we don't have to figure out our own personal journey in solitude! They have to be metaphorical, because their interpretation will be different for each individual life!

Valence passa une main sur ses yeux et quitta la fenêtre. -L'alcool est là, lui dit Néron en tendant les bras.

down outside." Bourne wasn't alone for long in the hut; he was putting away his mess-tin and knife when Sergeant Tozer came in and noted the

It is strange how people always speak quietly in the darkness before dawn.

Oh, I will go back to Century House and start again. And go back each night to my small flat and listen to my music and eat my baked beans. And you will go back to Nikki, my friend, and hold her very tight, and write your books and forget all this.

Autumn is the hush before winter.

It's just the world seems a very spacious place without him.

The true call of the desert, of the mountains, or the sea, is their silence—free of the networks of dead speech.

I paint self-portraits because I am so often alone, because I am the person I know best.

The first great thing is to find yourself and for that you need solitude and contemplation - at least sometimes. I can tell you deliverance will not come from the rushing noisy centers of civilization. It will come from the lonely places.

Ah, where will I findFlowers, come winter,And where the sunshineAnd shade of the earth?Walls stand coldAnd speechless, in the windThe weathervanes creak.

To live alone one must be a beast or a god, says Aristotle. Leaving out the third case: one must be both - a philosopher.

You can do zazen by yourself. You do Zen Buddhism with other people.

As the French philosopher Blaise Pascal famously said, "All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone." It's a shame that simply being quiet is so difficult for us.

She loved most being in the woods with the diffused light and the quiet there. Such a stillness, with just the pecking of ground birds and forest animals, the flutter of wings, the occasional skittering of squirrels playing up and down a tree. The silent, imperceptible unfurling of spring buds into blossom. She felt comfortable there. As if nothing could be unnatural in that place, within but apart from the world.