Quotes About Solitude

We don't have plays and music and contact with sophisticated minds, and a round of social engagements. All we have are sun and wind and rain, and space in which to move and breathe. All we have are the forests, and the calm expanses of the lakes, and time to call our own. All we have are the hunting and fishing and the swimming, and each other.

Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up.

When every inch of the world is known, sleep may be the only wilderness that we have left.

I feel all the same things when I do things alone as when Ole Golly was here. The bath feels hot, the bed feels soft, but I feel there's a funny little hole in me that wasn't there before, like a splinter in your finger, but this is somewhere above my stomach.

Most unhappiness comes from not being able to sit quietly in a room.

Had peace and quiet become so rare that when finally found they could be mistaken for something grotesque and unnatural? It would appear so.

Dr. Vincent Gilbert lived in the heart of the forest. Away from human conflict, but also away from human contact. It was a compromise he was more than happy to make.

Isabelle [Lacoste] sat quietly for a moment, looking into the naked woods. Only in the winter was it possible to see both the forest and the trees. Homicide, she thought, was a perpetual winter.

she was left with the warmth of the words from books now ash.

Abbots and priors and monks, oh my.

I had three chairs in my house: one for solitude, two for friendship, three for society." "My favorite quote from Thoreau is also from Walden," said Gamache. "A man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone.

Now she sat in front of him, nearly submerged under layers of thick sweaters and blankets. She looked like a laundry hamper without a head.

Do you know why we're all happy here, monsieur? Because it's the last house on the road.

Haven't you ever heard of an artist's muse?" the barman asked. "They all seem to either have one or want one. Me, all I want is peace and quiet.

He did not suggest that she sit quietly and get to know herself so she could be all the company she needed.

But she went from being a happy, carefree child to an embittered woman. Very solitary, not very likeable apparently. Then, near the end of her life, she wrote to a friend. In the letter she said that her father had said something to her. Something horrible and unforgivable." "The brutal telling.

I don't know, Armand. It made me sick. And sad. And glad I live far—" "From the madding crowd?" Vincent Gilbert smiled and nodded. "Yes. I peek out every now and then, then scuttle back to my little cabin, where I hope so-called civilization won't find me.

Most unhappiness comes from not being able to sit quietly in a room." "Pascal,

enamorarse. «Ya no existe la soledad.»

That moment of horror had finally given the young gardener what she'd longed for. Company. Acceptance. It was too bad it came at such a cost, but then peace often did.

wondered why she chose her isolated

A tone not often let out in public, preferring privacy.

Y las bibliotecas: silenciosas, tranquilas. Un refugio para el caos de la vida adolescente.

a single bright orange leaf lost its grip and wafted back and forth, gently falling to the ground.