Quotes About Solitude

He is his own best friend, and takes delight in privacy whereas the man of no virtue or ability is his own worst enemy, and is afraid of solitude.59 Such

A book is a friend that will do what no friend does - be silent when we wish to think.

if you are alone, you are all your own; with a companion you are half yourself; so you squander yourself according to the indiscretion of your company.

Sometimes," said Thoreau, "as I drift idly on Walden Pond, I cease to live and begin to be.

Locked inside the black vault of our skulls, stuck forever in the solitude of our own hallucinated universe, story is a portal, a hallucination within the hallucination, the closest we'll ever really come to escape.

There is a Moment in each Day that Satan cannot find

Mr Lysander Rief looks like someone who is far more at ease occupying the cold security of the dark; a man happier with the dubious comfort of the shadows.

what is it about me and basements? Why do I like the semi-subterranean life?

Ich bin für gute Unterhaltung, feuchtfröhliche Abende, Intimität, vins rouges en carafe, Lesen, relative Einsamkeit, Straßenbekanntschaften … Ich bin für die europäischen Verworrenheiten, die unergründlichen und mannigfachen Schichtungen der Alten Welt, für den Norden, für die Welt der Gedanken. Ich bin für das Hôtel de la Louisiane.

All the itch and clutter of the world, its bother and fuss, its nagging pettiness, can wear you down so easily. And this is why I like the beach ...

I am a total stranger, you see. Total.

Dido-my solitary bridesmaid- hadn't yet married Reggie Southover, and she didn't bring him to the wedding. For the first time, I thought she was jealous of me. 'My, my, Lady Farr,' she said, checking the hang of my wedding dress. 'Do I have to curtsey?' 'Only on my birthday. And you can always call me Amory when we're alone.' 'Fuck off!

Danse Russe If I when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists above shining trees,-- if I in my north room dance naked, grotesquely before my mirror waving my shirt round my head and singing softly to myself: I am lonely, lonely. I was born to be lonely, I am best so! If I admire my arms, my face, my shoulders, flanks, buttocks against the yellow drawn shades,-- Who shall say I am not the happy genius of my household?

Unleashed! Alone, watching the May moon above the trees . At nine o'clock the park closes. You must be out of the lake, dressed, in your cars and going: they change into their street clothes in the back seats and move out among the trees . The "great beast" all removed before the plunging night, the crickets' black wings and hylas wake .

I am lonely, lonely. I was born to be lonely, I am best so! — William Carlos Williams, from "Danse Russe," The Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams, Volume I, 1909-1939 , edited by Christopher MacGowan.

I am lonely, lonely. I was born to be lonely, I am best so! from "Danse Russe

It's because I'm alone.. If I could just feel it, it would be different, because I would not be alone. But if I were not alone, everybody would know it. And he could do so much for me, and then I would not be alone. Then I could be all right alone.

It was only as he put his hand on the door that he became aware of complete silence beyond it, a silence which he at eighteen knew that it would take more than one person to make.

The clock tick-tocked, solemn and profound. It might have been the dry pulse of the decaying house itself, after a while it whirred and cleared its throat and struck six times.

In the afternoon when school was out and the last one had left with his little dirty snuffling nose, instead of going home I would go down the hill to the spring where I could be quiet and hate them.

He lived out there, eight miles from any neighbor, in a masculine solitude in what might be called the half-acre gunroom of a baronial splendor.

At night it is better still. I used to lie on the pallet in the hall waiting until I could hear them all asleep, so I could get up and go back to the bucket. It would be black, the shelf black, the still surface of the water a round orifice in nothingness, where before I stirred it awake with the dipper I could see maybe a star or two in the bucket, and maybe in the dipper a star or two before I drank. After that I was bigger, older.

He had been too successful, you see; his was that solitude of contempt and distrust which success brings to him who gained it because he was strong instead of merely lucky.

He thought that it was loneliness which he was trying to escape and not himself.