Quotes About Isolation

She had been a solitary child, and then solitary as a woman, drawn into an orbit of her own that took her away from others, even those who would be her friends.

Catriana sighed. "I'm hard to make friends with," she said at length. "I doubt it's worth your effort.

If his mother had lived it might have been different, but the farm in Asoli where Garin of Lower Corte had taken his three sons had been a dour, womanless place—acceptable perhaps for the twins, who had each other, and for the kind of man Garin had slowly become amid the almost featureless spaces of the flatlands, but no source of nurture or warm memories for a small, quick, imaginative youngest child, whose own gifts, whatever they might turn out to be, were not those of the land.

Tell me, when your wife died...how did you go on living?" He opened his mouth and closed it without answering. She turned away. They went back through the forest to the sea. On the stony strand of the isle, he was still unable to speak. He watched as she unclipped and let fall her purple cloak, and then dropped the brooch that has pinned it and turned and went away along the white stones. The man named Mariscus followed her out of sight. How did you go on living?

Everybody has lonely places

One day it's been so long since you've talked to someone that it's impossible to say the things you should have said years ago.

As a famous person you think how you're gonna end it, get away and have a normal life.

Writing to you like this is the same as saying your name when I've woken up late, feeling sick, tasting rot. It's pointless, but it happens.

I think they're being cheap with their lives, that's why. So they seem ravenous for the worst thoughts I can have.

He stared at me for a couple of seconds, then picked up his cutlery, hunched over his plate. Outside, behind him, the wind carried the rain, the lamp posts quivered. I found myself thinking of certain people I knew--people not that far away--how surprised they'd be (wouldn't they?) to see me sitting there with that bright, bland expression on my face, trying to fence with this nonsense. Or had I been very naive? Was this what life was like, really, and everyone knew it but me?

Tragedies don't digest well in a small town.

Already I am no longer looked at with lechery or love. My daughters and sons have put me away with marbles and dolls, Are gone from the house. My husband and lovers are pleasant or somewhat polite And night is night.

The wordlessness of depression is a galling experience. You can't phone your friends, writing an e-mail is beyond you, you can't put pen to paper. The disease is a crash course in meaninglessness, lack of structure, the collapse of form.

I could talk to friends who phoned to see how I was only for a few minutes. However pleased I was to hear from them, soon my voice went flat and I wanted to go back to sleep. It was beyond me how other people could talk so much.

Tébolydában élünk; én csak egy vagyok a számtalan más ?rült közül; magántébolyom is MÁS az én szememben: úgy teszek, mintha kívül létezne a normalitás birodalma (holott belátom, tudom, élem: nincs, nem volt, nem lesz soha);

Szerintem ti semmit sem tudtok magatokról, minthogy sose voltatok évekig magánzárkába zárva.

A legnagyobb szegénységi bizonyítvány mi vagyunk – mondja Adorján. – Szegénységi bizonyítvány err?l az országról. Hogy az értelmesek hiába találkoznak, nem tudnak mihez kezdeni önmagukkal és egymással.

I'd love to step off this well-trodden straight and boring path. To somehow live differently, think different thoughts, feel different feelings than others. It wouldn't bother me to be as alone as a tree on the plains. My leaves would be like no other tree's.

When you went away, you left me nothing but the sun-bleached world. You did not even leave me a heart to bleed with. I found I was standing there with no body, and so no voice for calling you.

At times I suffer from the strangest sense of detachment from myself and the world about me; I seem to watch it all from the outside, from somewhere inconceivably remote, out of time, out of space, out of the stress and tragedy of it all.

The microscopic pieces were perfectly clear; the macroscopic behavior remained a mystery. The tradition of looking at systems locally—isolating the mechanisms and then adding them together—was beginning to break down.

When a lonely, penniless old woman dies people don't rush up to you in the street to tell you.

the feeling of cold emptiness, of having nothing to offer, made the journey a misery.

Psihologia noastr? vulgarizat? nu are alte explicaÈ›ii în afar? de parentalism È™i teorii ale dezvolt?rii pentru singur?tatea original? È™i efectul de izolare pe care îl imprim? chemarea daimonic?, în cazul lui Hitler, cât È™i al restului criminalilor înn?scuÈ›i.