Quotes About Solitude

Night time is really the best time to work. All the ideas are there to be yours because everyone else is asleep.

even though it was beautiful and comfortable, and even though it was the world, it was also a little bit boring. No, wait. Maybe boring isn't the right word. What's the word I'm wanting here? Lonely. That's it. It was a little bit lonely.

See, this is why I was by myself all those years. Because as soon as you let people in, they start depending on you. And then, if you can't be everything they think you should be, you've let them down. It's easier not to have anybody around at all.

I've practiced "alone" a lot, and I'm good at it.

It was one of those nights that's a really good time to have four walls and a door to close.

But what you don't realize, until you have to live it, is that it's the absence of the person that's the trouble. The ongoing absence. And when you're missing someone, a longer time without them doesn't solve the problem. The longer you don't see someone, the more you miss them.

If I was going to get hurt, or have a hard time, I wanted to do it all alone, with nobody looking.

I watch the rain stream down the windows in the dark. It gives me a feeling that the whole world is taking a moment to be sad.

But when I was inside, I was always OK. So I just started staying inside. Like I told you before, it gets to be an addiction.

I felt quite uncentered enough on my own, with no outside assistance.

though he should gather the silence into his arms and apologize to it. She

He listened to the occasional creak of Flora's squeaky board, and noticed it sounded lonely. Or maybe that was just him.

There was something peaceful about an untouched fall of snow. Like being in another world, where nothing can go wrong. Because nothing can find you.

his shoes and ran down onto the part of the sand where it's all wet and shiny, waiting for another wave to come in. When it did, it splashed up onto

I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried. For a year I have called every black tree Marya Morevna; I have looked for your face in the patterns of the ice. In the dark, I have pored over the loss of you like pale gold.

You look like a winter night", he had told her when he had given it to her. "I could sleep inside the cold of you".

And if they thought her aimless, if they thought her a bit mad, let them. It meant they left her alone. Marya was not aimless, anyway. She was thinking.

Forests have secrets,' he said gently. 'It's practically what they're for. To hide things. To separate one world from another.

When you've lost your girl, it doesn't much matter where you live. Everywhere is just The Place She Isn't, and that's the front and back of it.

That is what happens when a person lives alone for so long - no one else can change their ways.

It calmed him to collect the things he knew and did not speak of.

Mornings are not for company. They are for feeling cross and checking crab cages.

Come forward. Come in from the summer heat and the flies. Come in from that assault on all senses, that pummelling of rod and cone and drum and cilia. Come in from the great spotlight of the sun, sweeping across the white sands, making everyone, and therefore no one, a star. Come inside and meet the prologue.

It's a dreadful world with only your own heart to drive you.