Quotes About Solitude

Vahel on lahkumine ainus, mida sa teha saad.

Amanecía. En la posada Roca de Guía reinaba el silencio, un silencio triple.

When you're alone, it's easy to be afraid. It's easy to focus on what might be lurking in the dark at the bottom of the cellar steps. It's easy to obsess on unproductive things, like the madness of stepping into a storm of spinning knives. When you're alone it's easy to sweat, panic, fall apart …

When you're alone, it's easy to be afraid. It's easy to focus on what might be lurking in the dark at the bottom of the cellar steps. It's easy to obsess on unproductive things, like the madness of stepping into a storm of spinning knives. When you're alone it's easy to sweat, panic, fall apart … But I wasn't alone.

My romances were all pleasant and brief. I cannot say why brief, except to state the obvious: that I do not have much in me that might encourage a woman to make a long habit of my company.

the silence remained.

silence was his. This

I learned more from a month on the road than I had in three years of classes." Kvothe nodded. "Teccam said the same thing: no man is brave that has never walked a hundred miles. If you want to know the truth of who you are, walk until not a person knows your name. Travel is the great leveler, the great teacher, bitter as medicine, crueler than mirror-glass. A long stretch of road will teach you more about yourself than a hundred years of quiet introspection.

Caiu uma tonelada de ferro batido. Se houvesse alguém olhando, teria notado que a roda caiu mais depressa do que a gravidade poderia explicar. Teria notado que ela caiu enviesada, quase como se fosse atraída pelo dracus. Quase como se o próprio Tehlu a tivesse direcionado para a fera com mão vingativa. Mas não havia ninguém para ver a verdade das coisas. E não havia nenhum deus a guiá-la. Apenas eu.

bigger than a closet, empty except for an old oak door all bound

I learned more from a month on the road than I had in three years of classes (...) No man is brave that has never walked a hundred miles. If you want to know the truth of who you are, walk until not a person knows your name. Travel is the great leveller, the great teacher, bitter as medicine, crueler than mirror-glass. A long stretch of road will teach you more about yourself than a hundred years of quiet introspection.

Si quieres saber quién eres, camina hasta que no haya nadie que sepa tu nombre. Viajar nos pone en nuestro sitio, nos enseña más que ningún maestro, es amargo como una medicina, cruel como un espejo. Un largo tramo de camino te enseñará más sobre ti mismo que cien años de silenciosa introspección.

soaking in the quiet until he was full of it, then taking it with him when he left.

I was perfectly content, lost among the endless books. It made me feel safe,

No sabía con certeza de qué huía, a menos que fuera de la gente.

man is brave that has never walked a hundred miles. If you want to know the truth of who you are, walk until not a person knows your name. Travel is the great leveler, the great teacher, bitter as medicine, crueler than mirror-glass. A long stretch of road will teach you more about yourself than a hundred years of quiet introspection.

It reminded me of the quiet that settles on the coldest days in winter when it hurts to breathe and everything is still.

What other option did I have, now that words had failed me? What do any of us have when words fail us?

Si quieres saber quién eres, camina hasta que no haya nadie que sepa tu nombre.

When you're alone, it's easy to be afraid. It's easy to focus on what might be lurking in the dark at the bottom of the cellar steps. It's easy to obsess on unproductive things, like the madness of stepping into a storm of spinning knives. When you're alone it's easy to sweat, panic, fall apart … But

But there was no one there to see the truth of things. And there was no God guiding it. Only me.

He had escaped the abhorrent taint! He was truly completely alone! He was the only human being in the world!

As he began to withdraw from them, it became clear to Grenouille for the first time that for eighteen years their compacted human effluvium had oppressed him like air heavy with an imminent thunderstorm. Until now he had thought that it was the world in general he had wanted to squirm away from. But it was not the world, it was the people in it. You could live, so it seemed, in this world, in this world devoid of humanity. On

Virtually drowning in himself, he could not for the life of him smell himself.