Quotes About Solitude

Some people on this earth receive love, get married, and honeymoon in Cabo. Others do not. Some people read alone on the sofa and some people read together, in bed. That's life.

Well, sometimes you just want to go where it's dark, you know?

Who can sleep with you in the world?

Just eat it and shit it and be done with it and don't feel special cuz you eat that shit with someone because in the end we all shit alone!

It would be nice to have something alive to hold on to right now, something to love me, something with a beating heart that I can feel, something to be with me as I sit here, in hell, trying to figure it out.

That's why you leave the windows open. You don't know how to be alone with yourself. And if you block out the world, there you'd be.

I fold my hands under my head and tell the books all about you. They listen, Beck. I know it sounds crazy, but they do.

Real blues shut you down and shut you up.

I need help--Hey Siri, how do you kill love?--but who am I kidding? She doesn't know. No one knows. I have to figure it out myself, alone...

The sweetest thing in life is to be alone, as you were born, as you will die, soaking in the sun, knowing that you put the cactus in the right place, that you don't need someone to come along and compliment your work, that someone who did that would, in fact, just be getting in the way.

You don't know how to be alone with yourself. And if you block out the world, there you'd be.

What makes you feel empty and what makes you feel full? Who, or what, makes you feel connected or soothed or joyful? How much companionship do you need, and how much solitude? What feels right, what feels like enough? We all have to feel our way through those questions in life, and although she cannot provide the answers for me, I have the sense that Lucille is gently leading me toward them. I pick up that leash; I go forward.

She had a kind of internal reserve, an astonishing capacity for self-comfort, and she handled solitude more effectively than almost anyone I knew. She could spend whole days by herself — painting, knitting, reading; losing herself in art and craft and intellect.

Drinking alone is what you do when you can't stand the feeling of living in your own skin. Boswell describes this in his Life of Johnson: "I drink alone," Johnson explains, "to get rid of myself, to send myself away. Wine makes a man better pleased with himself.

The dog-as-surrogate view implies that there are only two ways to inhabit the world, with other humans or without them, and it ignores the fact that sometimes you need both and sometimes you need a safe space somewhere in between. Dogs occupy that safe space; they make it possible.

I am not lonely, living this way, because I have given up expecting that loneliness can be blotted out by anyone else; my loneliness is my own cherished possession and probably my only one.

I am not lonely, living this way, because I have given up expecting that loneliness can be blotted out by anyone else; my loneliness is my own cherished possession and probably my only one." — Martha Gellhorn, in a letter to Campbell Beckett, from Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn

One thing time has not removed from me," she wrote to Grover, "the last toughness of youth, and that is to live alone. I am glad of that; I would be scared to death if I found I was really needing people." One

the silence of God is God.

With solitude, however, fervently it is desired and embraced, comes loneliness. T. H White, the author, offered advice to those in sadness -- learn something new.

Ours is a long marriage, and we have found solitude together. [p. 23]

Before she turned around to face him, she wiped away the tears that had started down her cheeks. Nancy didn't cry much, but when she did, she cried in private.

She wanted so to be tranquil, to be someone who took walks in the late-afternoon sun, listening to the birds and crickets and feeling the whole world breathe. Instead, she lived in her head like a madwoman locked in a tower, hearing the wind howling through her hair and waiting for someone to come and rescue her from feeling things so deeply that her bones burned.

My life is like a lone, forgotten Q-Tip in the second-to-last drawer.