Quotes About Solitude

The Abandoned Valley Can you understand being alone so long you would go out in the middle of the night and put a bucket into the well so you could feel something down there tug at the other end of the rope?

To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth all the years of sorrow that are to come.

No deeper loneliness than the Samurai's. None but the tiger's in the jungle perhaps. He

and closed his eyes, thinking about it.      

No deeper loneliness than the Samurai's. None but the tiger's in the jungle perhaps.

One man practicing kindness in the wilderness is worth all the temples this world pulls.

Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running—that's the way to live. All alone and free in the soft sands of the beach by the sigh of the sea out there, with the Ma-Wink fallopian virgin warm stars reflecting on the outer channel fluid belly waters. And if your cans are redhot and you can't hold them in your hands, just use good old railroad gloves, that's all.

As far as I'm concerned the only thing to do is sit in a room and get drunk

Roaring dreams take place in a perfectly silent mind. Now that we know this, throw the raft away.

The silence was an intense roar.

I was suddenly left with nothing in my hands but a handful of crazy stars.

I came to a point where I needed solitude and just stop the machine of 'thinking' and 'enjoying' what they call 'living', I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds.

Who can leap the world's ties and sit with me among white clouds?

I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all

most of the time we were alone and mixing up our souls ever more and ever more till it would be terribly hard to say good-by.

After all this kind of fanfare, and even more, I came to a point where I needed solitude and to just stop the machine of 'thinking' and 'enjoying' what they call 'living,' I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds...

Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running -- that's the way to live. All alone and free in the soft sands of the beach....

I'd sleep and forget it; I had my own life, my own sad and ragged life forever.

It was the work of the quiet mountains, this torrent of purity at my feet.

In all this welter of women I still hadn't got one for myself, not that I was trying too hard, but sometimes I felt lonely to see everybody paired off and having a good time and all I did was curl up in my sleeping bag in the rosebushes and sigh and say bah. For me it was just red wine in my mouth and a pile of firewood

A feeling of sadness that only bus stations have.

No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength. Learning for instance, to eat when he's hungry and sleep when he's sleepy.

He was alone in the doorway, digging the street. Bitterness, recriminations, advice, morality, sadness--everything was behind him, and ahead of him was the ragged and ecstatic joy of pure being.

and silence is the golden mountain