Quotes About Isolation

It turned out that the United States was a desperately lonely place, where everyone had been worrying that a single missed phone call might change one's destiny.

The hostage hours had blurred into one another, anonymous as a line of smashed pumpkins.

It's a night out of time and a time out of place.

Loneliness was tricky: a cup filled at one moment with freedom, and the next, with emptiness.

Because we don't have your typical gaps around here. Not gaps made of rocks or mountains. We have gaps in the world. In the space of things. So many places to lose yourself, if you believe that they're there. You can slip into the gap and never find your way out. Or maybe you don't want to find your way out.

Hell didn't burn. And the only devils to be found were the ones you find on earth, and there were too many of those, and they looked like everybody else. Hell, though. Hell was empty. Hell was nowhere. A dead silent plain of echoes and dust and empty arms rocking. Of dead boys shot down over vast, cold oceans. Where people didn't even care enough about you to hate you. Where the people who'd promised to love you forgot your name. Hell was cold. The coldest place in the universe.

My mother isolated herself from all family and friends for some 20 years. And never met her grandchild, my son.

On deadline days, though, "my best time is around eleven at night. There is absolutely no distraction to be had. You're pretty much shackled to your desk." She pauses. "There's something really nice about that.

I am shrunken and shriveled inside, a rotten chestnut hidden beneath a deceptively smooth shell

Silence was the key to self-preservation.

There are only the three of us and our dark, burgeoning desires I am so afraid of what comes next

She looks straight into my eyes for the first time in years and somehow it's worse than not being seen at all.

Because I know more and more that this glass here is so very dark, that this really is a long loneliness, that it is both lonely and long.

Loneliness in a crowd of people was the worst kind of loneliness, but she couldn't help it.

I didn't like being alone. Being alone was slightly better than having to deal with people, that's all. Or so I'd convinced myself.

I heard him tell our parents, "She said no," and my melancholy deepened. Mom and Dad and Chris were downstairs together, merrily strapping on nunchucks and punching each other in the face, while here I was, gloomy and alone. And whose fault is that? I asked myself. Oh, shut up. , I replied.

All I knew now was that nothing lasted forever, not even a friendship, and that being "different" felt the same as being alone.

YOU WILL DIE OF SUFFOCATION IN THE ICY COLD OF SPACE.

Illness was a temporary respite, a release from the demands of an alienating world.

How do you describe emptiness? Is it the air inside a bubble, the darkness in a pocket, snow? I think, yes, I was six when or seven when I first felt it, the dwindling that is depression.

I couldn't reach her. I was never able to reach her. Maybe she moved at a pace too fast. Maybe she was too sad. She held herself stiff, a lacquered lady. I think because I couldn't feel her, I couldn't feel myself.

They had no longboat, no firewood, and scant clothing.

privacy did not exist aboard these ships—and if the sea happened to be rough

Magellan and Faleiro had to see to it that the crew members had no contact with local women.