Quotes About Solitude

And yet and yet! That strained look on her face! A gnawing sorrow is there all the time. Her very soul is in her eyes and she would give worlds to be in the privacy of her own familiar chamber where, giving way to tears, she could have a good cry and relieve her pentup feelings. Though not too much because she knew how to cry nicely before the mirror. You are lovely, Gerty, it said.

He went up to his room after dinner in order to be alone with his soul: and at every step his soul seemed to sigh: at every step his soul mounted with his feet, sighing in the ascent, through a region of viscid gloom.

For all their faults. I am passing out. O bitter ending! I'll slip away before they're up. They'll never see. Nor know. Nor miss me.

I will tell you also what I do not fear. I do not fear to be alone or to be spurned for another or to leave whatever I have to leave. And I am not afraid to make a mistake, even a great mistake, a lifelong mistake, and perhaps as long as eternity too.

A way a lone a last a loved a long the—

To be presented, Babs for Bim bushi? Of courts and with enticers. Up, girls, and at him! Alone? Alone what? I mean, our strifestirrer, does she do fleurty winkies with herself. Pussy is never alone, (...)

No one wanted him; he was outcast from life's feast.

Leave the letter that never begins to go find the latter that ever comes to end, written in smoke and blurred by mist and signed of solitude, sealed at night.

Yes, evening will find itself in me, without me.

Mi hai fatto confessare le paure che sento. Ma ti dirò anche che cos'è che non mi fa paura. Non mi fa paura esser solo o venir sprezzato per un altro o lasciare tutto ciò che tocchi lasciare. E non mi fa paura commettere un errore, anche un grande errore, un errore che duri quanto la vita e magari tutta l'eternità.

the park's so dark by kindlelight. But look what you have in your handself!

It's in the silence you feel you hear.

Who watches me here? Who ever anywhere will read these written words? Signs on a white field.

Why was he kneeling there like a child saying his evening prayers? To be alone with his soul, to examine his conscience, to meet his sins face to face, to recall their times and manners and circumstances, to weep over them.

Quietly, sure of his ground, he traversed the dismal fields.

drew the blankets over my head and tried to think of Christmas.

The cheers died away in the soft grey air. He was alone. He was happy and free; but he would not be anyway proud with Father Dolan. He would be very quiet and obedient: and he wished that he could do something kind for him to show him that he was not proud.

But when he had sung his song and withdrawn into a snug corner of the room he began to taste the joy of his loneliness.

he began to taste the joy of his loneliness.

It is like whispering to one's self and listening at the same time.

But everyone has a private cathedral that he earns, a special place to which he returns when the world is too much late and soon, and loss and despair come with the rising of the sun.

One day you'll have a quiet heart.

Thinking at night isn't good for anybody.

There are not many places left in the United States where people can get off the computer, stop filing tax returns, and in effect become invisible. The rain forests in the Cascades and parts of West Montana come to mind, and perhaps the 'Glades still offer hope to those who wish to resign from modern times. The other place is the Atchafalaya Basin.