Quotes About Solitude

I've never really socialized, I've always been anti-social and preferred to be at home. I was never, even my late teens and early twenties, into clubs and parties and stuff like that.

I'd rather be home alone, painting.

I tend to have to just get away from it all, so it is nice when touring to be able to come home for a week or two and close the door and not really see anybody.

Why don't I watch the ocean?My lover's gone.No earthly ships will ever bring him home againbring him home again.

Me and my books in the same apartment, like a gherkin in its vinegar.

I made an airplane out of stone. . . I always did like staying home.

It's a long ride home with nothing but me for company. I bore myself sometimes. Not often. Just now and again.

I feel very at home in an empty church. I feel the most protected. It's very mystical.

What I did to celebrate was I went home to my 535-square-foot apartment by myself and ate supper by myself. That was how I celebrated getting a record deal.

I live in a very small town and now that I've closed down my studio, I'm working at home.

If I am just home and writing, I become very strange.

All I do is sit at home and play guitar. That's seriously what I do.

I'm looking forward to some peace and quiet. I fantasize about having a home, which I've kind of never had.

The main advantage of working at home is that you get to find out what cats really do all day.

North Americans have a peculiar bias. They go outside to be alone and they go home to be social.

If I'm at home on my own and the writing isn't going well, I clean my house. And there have been times in the past few years when my house has looked really clean.

From '69 til '76, I never played in public. I would play by myself at home.

Home is where you can go and rest and be nothing

I feel most at home when I'm alone. That's not sad. It's just I feel closest to source and connection when I'm by myself.

When you're gone I can go running though the house screaming and no one will ever hear me.

Within National Parks is room--glorious room--room in which to find ourselves, in which to think and hope, to dream and plan, to rest and resolve.

In a coma, you don't dream, you just hope that someone sits with you.

We need the possibility of escape as surely as we need hope.

It looks as if I were meant to be alone, and that any hope of happiness is not meant. Am I too old to acquire the knack for happiness?