Quotes About Solitude

Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.

My home...It is my retreat and resting place from wars, I try to keep this corner as a haven against the tempest outside, as I do another corner in my soul.

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

If life be a war, it seemed my destiny to conduct it single-handed.

If I tap that little bell, I can send you to a place where you will never hear the dogs bark.

Oh to have a lodge in some vast wilderness. Where rumors of oppression and deceit, of unsuccessful and successful wars may never reach me anymore.

I lay in my bed night after night staring at the ceiling and thinking, Why have I survived the war? Why was I the last person in my immediate family to be alive? I didn't know.

I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast I am alone in the night Been trying hard not to get into trouble, but I I've got a war in my mind So, I just ride

The strange white world lay stroked by silence. No birds sang. The garden was no longer there, in this forested land. Nor were the out-buildings nor the old crumbling walls. There lay only a narrow clearing round the house now, hummocked with unbroken snowdrifts, before the trees began, with a narrow path leading away.

One day that song stopped being on the outside of me and went deep inside. It was there all the time, especially when I was feeling particularly lonely.

I don't need anybody here." "Sure you do. Who's going to answer the door while you're asleep in your casket?

He hates having people around." Then how does he expect to find his next murder victim? Scamp inquired. Unless it's Jaycie . . .

Sometimes you need a friend really badly, but everyone's gone away for the day.

La montaña más desprovista de vida y más estéril sobre la faz de la Tierra, con el sueño ininterrumpido de años y años cubriendo su soledad, sigue conservando en su cabeza callada la emoción de una pasión poderosa.

Mrs. Hale had not moved. "If there had been years and years of—nothing, then a bird to sing to you, it would be awful—still—after the bird was still.

The beauty of sleep is the way the world around you disappears.

All men dream, all men have a dream, all men want a dream.... I have none, What shall I put in its stead? I do not know.Melancholy is my only companion, and she does not dream either.

wildflower pressed into the page reading "Tintern Abbey." Jerry had marked a passage: If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance

lonely, very lonely to have a past no one else can share.

Everything became a metaphor, a talisman, a sign that I was still actually connected to people—that I wasn't so completely on my own.

One of the benefits of TM, Agatha had said, was that it enabled you to be "alone with your thoughts." But as I quickly discovered, a lot of my thoughts were not anything I wanted to be alone with.

She buried herself so deep in the book no harm could ever find her.

It's never a bad thing to have only God to turn to.

And yesterday, when she'd claimed a quiet place on