Quotes About Seclusion

Columbus isn't exactly the murder capital of the world, but like every city it has a dark side.

Invisibility was my favorite state of existence.

I live in Venice, where I can roll out of bed in my pajamas, so I tend to fly under the radar - and I hope that continues.

Seek out some retired and old-world spot, far from the madding crowd, and dream away a sunny week among its drowsy lanes - some half-forgotten nook, hidden away by the fairies, out of reach of the noisy world - some quaint-perched eyrie on the cliffs of Time, from whence the surging waves of the nineteenth century would sound far-off and faint.

agreed with George, and suggested that we should seek out some retired and old-world spot, far from the madding crowd, and dream away a sunny week among its drowsy lanes—some half-forgotten nook, hidden away by the fairies, out of reach of the noisy world—some quaint-perched eyrie on the cliffs of Time, from whence the surging waves of the nineteenth century would sound far-off and faint.

far from the madding crowd

My dream, I remember, when I went to boarding school, was to have a study all my own, a little nook someplace where nobody could get at me - nobody, like the football coach.

Forget sex or politics or religion, loneliness is the subject that clears out a room.

The best way to inspire fresh thoughts is to seal the envelope.

There is something about a bathroom that feels like a fortress. A closed bathroom door may only be about two inches of plywood, but it feels like an iron bar.

Then the doors closed throughout the hotel. Everyone locked himself in behind the double doors and each was left alone with himself and his secrets.

I like to write about the solitary things people do. Humans seem to function best when they're alone.

I'm really private, and also, when I'm home, I'm home. I don't like people in on my business. I believe that you can be overexposed.

What I do in my own time, is my business.

Our motor car is our supreme form of privacy when we are away from home.

lonely and isolated people who feel their solitude more intensely within the busy life of the streets. They are what George Gissing called the anchorites of daily life, who return unhappy to their solitary rooms.

The island took the Lighthouse.

But the longing within him had grown even greater, the overpowering need to be alone. Locked in an empty room, entirely unwitnessed, silent and supine. Stretched out, not needing to speak, not needing to move. Not required to cope with anyone or any problem. And no one will even know where I am, he told himself. That seemed, unaccountably, very important; he wanted to be unknown and invisible, to live unseen.

Purity. Serenity. Simplicity. Seclusion. All one's concentration and flamboyance and originality reserved for the grueling, exalted, transcendent calling. I looked around and I thought, This is how I will live.

Hide until everybody goes home. Hide until everybody forgets about you. Hide until everybody dies.

I want to be alone.

It's very easy to live here. You're anonymous here. Nobody knows who you are.

Most of the time I live a fully anonymous life, which is the way I like it.

Je suis venu me réfugier ici au fond d'un château, comme dans un monastère.