Quotes About Solitude

The Unknown sometimes holds surprises for the spirit of man. A sudden rent in the veil of darkness will momentarily reveal the invisible and then close up again. Such visions sometimes have a transfiguring effect, turning a camel driver into a Mohammed, a goat girl into a Joan of Arc. Solitude brings out a certain amount of sublime exaltation.

Nadas que são enormes dentro do vazio.

In this solitude there was also a heart that was all ready. Love had only to show its face; there was a temple there composed of greenery, of grass, of moss, of bird sighs, of soft shade, of agitated branches, and a soul made of gentleness, of faith, of candor, of hope, of aspiration, and of illusion.

Quelle minute funèbre que celle où la société s'éloigne et consomme l'irréparable abandon d'un être pensant !

To speak out aloud when alone is as it were to have a dialogue with the divinity which is within. It was, as is well known, a custom of Socrates; he declaimed to himself. Luther did the same.

They convert a poor camel-driver into a Mahomet; a peasant girl tending her goats into a Joan of Arc. Solitude generates a certain amount of sublime exaltation.

Grief had become her silent sidekick. She felt its shadow beside her all the time.

There is no middle ground, no safe place; not here, in the Great Alone.

In the last few moments before dawn, Vianne sat near the mound of fresh-turned earth. She wanted to pray, but her faith felt far away, the remnant of another woman's life.

Alone is overrated," he said simply.

For a magnificent moment, the world fell away and she was somewhere else, before now, or long from now, and she wasn't hungry or tired or scared or angry. She simply was. She closed her eyes and felt at peace for the first time in years. Safe.

She had felt lonely for years, but now she truly was alone.

And the best way not to care was to surround yourself with noise and people.

In her lonely bedroom, surrounded by the novels that had become her friends, she sometimes dared to dream of an adventure of her own, but not often.

Leni looked around. The beauty of this place, the majesty of it, was overwhelming. A deep and abiding peace existed here; there were no human voices, no thumping footsteps, no laughter or engines running. The natural world spoke loudest here, the breathing of the tide across the rocks, the slap of water on the float plane's pontoons, the distant barking of sea lions lumped together on a rock, being circled by chattering gulls.

For a magnificent moment, the world fell away and she was somewhere else, before now, or long from now, and she wasn't hungry or tired or scared or angry. She simply was.

Grief this deep was a silent, lonely thing.

For all he knew, he was the first person to climb this jutting, dangerous slab of rock. That was what he loved about this sport. When you were high above the world, anchored to a bit of stone by a piece of metal and your own courage, there was no outside world. No worries, no stresses, no memories of what you'd lost. There was only the extreme beauty, the solitude, and the risk. He loved that most of all: the risk. There was nothing like imminent danger to make a man know he was alive.

Sometime around three in the morning, she got out of bed and went to the porch, where she sat wrapped in a blanket, staring at little beyond the vapor of her own breath. But it wasn't cold enough to numb her grief.

Woman must come of age by herself Ã¢â'¬Â¦ She must find her true center alone. —Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea

without the aid of alcohol. "There are no parties to attend," he

Agora sozinha no meu apartamento, afastada de todos, espojo-me na dor, nadando nas suas águas cálidas. (Uma Estrela na Noite - pág.230

The world at night was big and lonesome in a way

Light, and work; that was summer in Alaska.