Quotes About Solitude

A dead man's dog ain't got a name.

John Grady looked at the table. The paper cat stepped thin and slant among the shapes of cats thereon. He looked up again. Yessir, he said. Just me and him.

It was still dark and the fire had long since died, still dark and quiet with that silence that seems to be of itself listening

I hear people talking about going on a vacation or something and I think, what is that about? I have no desire to go on a trip. My perfect day is sitting in a room with some blank paper. That's heaven. That's gold and anything else is just a waste of time.

Where men cant live gods fare no better. You'll see. It's better to be alone. So I hope that's not true what you said because to be on the road with the last god would be a terrible thing so I hope it's not true. Things will be better when everybody's gone.

Things will be better when everybody's gone. They will? Sure they will. Better for who? Everybody.

Forty minutes later he saw her and stopped and sat the horse and watched. She was riding along a red dirt ridge to the south sitting with her hands crossed on the pommel, looking toward the last of the sun, the horse slogging slowly through the loose sandy dirt, the red stain of it following them in the still air. That's my heart yonder, he told the horse. It always was.

When he woke in the woods in

Pe-acest drum nu mai e nici un suflet de om de la care s? auzi vorba Domnului. S-au dus, iar eu am r?mas È™i ei au luat cu ei lumea. Întrebare: prin ce se deosebeÈ™te ce nu va fi niciodat? de ce nu a fost niciodat??

No one spoke. There was none to curse and none to pray, we just watched.

They went on. In the nights sometimes now he'd wake in the black and freezing waste out of softly colored worlds of human love, the songs of birds, the sun.

He sat with his back to a rock and felt the warmth of the sun on his face and watched it pool and flare and drain away dragging with it all that pink and rose and crimson sky.

Where did everybody go? And that's how it will be. What's wrong with that?

There was no wind and the silence out there was greatly favored by every kind of fugitive as was the open country itself and no mountains close at hand for enemies to black themselves against.

The rain had ripened all the country around and the roadside grass was luminous and green from the run-off and flowers were in bloom across the open country. He slept that night in a field far from any town. He built no fire. He lay listening to the horse crop the grass at his stakerope and he listened to the wind in the emptiness and watched stars trace the arc of the hemisphere and die in the darkness at the edge of the world and as he lay there the agony in his heart was like a stake.

It would take a hell of a wife to beat no wife at all.

Now come days of begging, days of theft. Days of riding where there rode no soul save he.

With full dark he came forth, a solitary traveler going south. He walked all night.

I aint drinkin after no mule, said the hermit. Have you not got no old bucket nor nothin?

Yet the captain inhabited another space and it was a space of his own election and outside the common world of men.

I'd always had the idea that I didnt want to be found. That if you died and nobody knew about it that would be as close as you could get to never having been here in the first place.

He built no fire. He lay listening to the horse crop the grass at his stakerope and he listened to the wind in the emptiness and watched stars trace the arc of the hemisphere and die in the darkness at the edge of the world and as he lay there the agony in his heart was like a stake.

Ultimo hombre. Last man standing, must've been one. Where'd he go?

Every remedy for loneliness only postpones it.