Quotes About Solitude

Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home; Thou are not my friend; I am not thine.

The business of writing is one of the four or five most private things in the world.

A writer and nothing else: a man alone in a room with the English language, trying to get human feelings right.

Writing is a solitary occupation. Family, friends and society are the natural enemies of a writer. He must be alone, uninterrupted and slightly savage if he is to sustain and complete an undertaking.

Much poetry happens in the silence of 3 AM.

I went to the river, dove into the water, and sat at the bottom, but my thoughts followed me.

Sometimes night has a way of speaking to us, but we almost never listen.

The writer is always to some extent in exile, wherever he is, because he is somehow outside, separated from others; there is always a distance.

Sve je u meni mrtvo; tako mi je dobro. Ne dopire do mene zvuk, umro mi je ocinji vid. Sve je ostalo za velikom kapijom koja se zatvorila muklo za mnom. Izgubio sam sve i nisam vise covjek nego nemirna besana misao koja je potonula i pricutala se na dubokom dnu, a nada mnom su kao neprozirne zelene mase voda, mir, daljina i zaborav.

?esto sjedim sate i sate i gledam u hladne jesenje boje. Mir sudbine koja se više ne da promijeniti ledi mi se na duši i licu. Sve je u meni mrtvo; tako mi je dobro. Ne dopire do mene zvuk, umro mi je o?inji vid. Sve je ostalo za velikom kapijom koja se zatvorila muklo za mnom. Izgubio sam sve i nisam više ?ovjek nego nemirna besana misao koja je potonula i pri?utala se na dubokom dnu, a nada mnom su kao neprozirne zelene mase voda, mir, daljina i zaborav

Sto vise samujes i cutis o sebi,sve ti je plici u ludji razgovor tvog susjeda.

Svaka istinska, velika strast traži samo?u i bezimenost. ?ovek koji služi svojoj strasti želi da ostane nevi?en i neznan, nasamo sa predmetom svoje strasti, i o svemu drugom voli i ume više i bolje da govori nego o tome što je glavni predmet njegovih misli i želja. ?ak i porok ima svoj stid i svoje obzire, iako naopake i neobi?ne.

Avlija živi sama, za sebe, sa stotinu promena i uvek ista.

U ?utanju je sigurnost.

And then the death will come. The great parting, but the least painful of all the goodbyes we ever knew. For in death, only one shall grieve. And so far we have always, at every parting, grieved together.

What is there left for me after my purgatory of solitude?...I welcome death as a version of life in which I will not be myself. There is a fallacy here which I ought to see but will not. For when I wake on the ocean floor it will be the same old voice that drones out of me...

DEDICATED TO: YOU - it has been so long, too long, since you have had a home.

I won't be the first man to spend his life barely alive, he told himself. Men did it. It was no great feat. He would live--he'd live a few scant miles from the heart of life, on its chill periphery. That suited him after all.

Why do people live in places like this? There's nothing here. You see all that sky?" she asked Roarke. "You shouldn't be able to see that much sky from down here. It can't be good for you.

She didn't want Rufty to sit in the box, wanted more private than the lounge.

I find myself pulling back, too often, from friends. It's easier, and more self-indulgent, to be alone. I need a nudge out of that cycle from time to time.

being alone. He wanted a woman

Alone, Eve wondered how anyone managed to work in a room without a window. Then she wondered, with all of those books Ã¢â'¬Â¦ Maybe they were his window.

Maybe that was one of the purposes of sex. To isolate you, for a little while, from everything but yourself and your lover. To allow you to focus in on your body, its needs, the gratification that was physical and—if you were lucky in that lover—emotional as well. Without those pockets of solitude and sensation, you might just go mad.