Quotes About Solitude

He is outside of everything, and alien everywhere. He is an aesthetic solitary. His beautiful, light imagination is the wing that on the autumn evening just brushes the dusky window.

To say that she had a book is to say that her solitude did not press upon her; for her love of knowledge had a fertilizing quality and her imagination was strong. There was at this time, however, a want of lightness in her situation, which the arrival of an unexpected visitor did much to dispel.

She often wondered indeed if she ever had been, or ever could be, intimate with anyone.

We were alone with the quiet day, and his little heart, dispossessed, had stopped.

The terrace and the whole place, the lawn and the garden beyond it, all I could see of the park, were empty with a great emptiness.

It was the air she wanted and the world she would now exclusively choose; the quiet chambers, nobly overwhelming, rich but slightly veiled, opened out round her and made her presently say 'If I could lose myself here!' There were people, people in plenty, but, admirably, no personal question. It was immense, outside, the personal question; but she had blissfully left it outside....

one should try to be one's own best friend and to give one's self, in this manner, distinguished company.

To say that she had a book is to say that her solitude did not press upon her; for her love of knowledge had a fertilizing quality and her imagination was strong.

There was a sort of spell in the sense that nobody in the world knew where she was. It was the first time in her life that this had happened; somebody, everybody appeared to have known before, at every instant of it, where she was; so that she was now suddenly able to put it to herself that that hadn't been a life.

I adore a moat,' said Isabel. 'Good-bye.

She sometimes felt a sort of passion of tenderness for memories which had led no other merit than that they belonged to her unmarried life.

They haven't been good — they've only been absent. It has been easy to live with them because they're simply leading a life of their own.

I'm a survivor—a survivor of a general wreck . . . everyone else has gone . . . I'm all that's left.

I see you want us all to go. I don't know what you want to do. I want to be alone, said Isabel.

Well, if you love me intensely let me as intensely alone.

Your desire is to escape everything? Everything.

To live in such a place was, for Isabel, to hold to her ear all day a shell of the sea of the past. This vague eternal rumor kept her imagination awake.

Oh dear, I'm quite alone, I've nothing on earth to do.

strolled down the hill without meeting a creature, though I could see through the palings of the Common that that recreative expanse was peopled with dim forms.  I remembered Mrs. Nettlepoint's house—she lived in those days (they

nobody in the house but the governess was in the governess's plight;

Words are loneliness.

An artist is always alone - if he is an artist. No, what the artist needs is loneliness.

To be silent the whole day long, see no newspaper, hear no radio, listen to no gossip, be thoroughly and completely lazy, thoroughly and completely indifferent to the fate of the world is the finest medicine a man can give himself.

i am a free man— and i need my freedom. i need to be alone. i need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; i need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company.