Quotes About Isolation

I hate that you can do what you're supposed to do and I can't. I hate that you're going to leave me behind. I hate that everyone calls it growing up, but it seems like dying . It feels like each one of you is being possessed and I'm next.

Since no one loves me, I'll go.

At the window of my room, I catch my reflection in the glass. Shaggy black hair. Sneer.I look like a hungry ghost, glowering in at a world I am no longer fit to be a part of.

Everybody dies alone, Jameson said, and kept going. "Not everybody wakes up right after.

She was a poisoned well of a girl.

You're the only one I can talk to, Call," said Jasper. "You mean because I'm chained to this floor and can't get away?

In the darkness, everything is different. The air feels thick. My skin itches. I close my eyes, but that just plunges me deeper into nothingness. It's like being out in space, drifting, without even the comfort of stars. It's like being buried in the earth, buried in my past, buried and trying to dig my way out.

He just looked like a pretty boy, tall and lanky. She thought again of the crumpled paper in her purse and of him, caged beneath a cemetery. How long had he been there? How long had he looked just as he did now? A hundred years? Two hundred? Could he even remember the press of time? Maybe having stepped outside of it would drive anybody crazy.

Fine, fine, everyone's fine," said the vampire, a mad gleam in his red eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as Bela Lugosi did in black-and-white films. "Fine as scattered pieces of sand." She wondered how much effort it had taken him to talk to her the way he had—to, what was it he'd said? Keeping my thoughts clearly ordered—and how crazy he was going to be now, as a result of that strain.

I am a solitary creature, fated to be one and better as one. Forgetting that is what got me into trouble.

I have done the thing, and now I must live with what I have done. I have lied and I have betrayed and I have triumphed. If only there was someone to congratulate me.

I wonder what it would be like, to never have to be alone.

It would be better to disconnect from everything, to float free from my body, to be nothing in an endless night of nothing.

He was as distant as the moon too, as expressionless & grim.

as though she was the only real thing in a land of ghosts.

The hardest part was having so much time to think. To have to make his own decisions. To wrestle with the guilt of being alive when by all rights he shouldn't have been. Vince was used to measuring out his life in small moments, never letting himself look much ahead, and never daring to look behind…And now Vince had to make plans if he was going to survive.

They'd probably be happier if he did," he told me. "I'm the reason my father is in exile. The reason my mother married him in the first place. My one sister and her girlfriend had to take care of me when I was little, even though they were barely more than kids themselves. My other sister almost got killed lots of times to keep me safe. Things will be easier without me around. They'll see that.

Cardan was left to be suckled by a little black cat whose kittens came stillborn.' 'He survived on cat milk?' I exclaim. ... I think again of the globe I held in Eldred's study, of Cardan dressed in rags, looking to the woman in my chamber for approval, which came only when he was awful. An abandoned prince, weaned on cat milk and cruelty, left to roam the palace like a little ghost.

Cardan had grown up in the palace, a wild thing to be cosseted by courtiers and scowled at by the High King. No one much liked him, and he told himself he cared little for anyone else. And if he sometimes thought about how he might do something to win his father's favour, something to make the Court respect him and love him, he kept that to himself. He certainly asked no one to tell him stories, and yet he found it was nice to be told one. He kept that to himself, too.

be the stone wall of an abandoned folly.

Wren was discovered in the flashing lights of a patrol car two years later, walking along the side of a highway. The soles of her shoes were as worn as if she'd danced through them, her clothing was stiff with sea salt, and scars marred the skin of her wrists and cheeks.

My sister thinks that she's the only one who can take poison, but I am poison,' he whispers, eyes half-closed, talking to himself. 'Poison in my blood. I poison everything I touch.' That's such a strange thing to hear him say. Everyone adores him. And yet, I recall him running away at thirteen, sure so many things were his fault.

Will you tell me how you came to be living…" He stops, as if trying to find the words. "As you were." I remember the care I'd given that he not know. How could I explain the way time seemed to slip from my fingers, the way I became incrementally more detached, more unable to reach out a hand to take anything I wanted?

Charlie's sister had spent the last few years bingeing Reddit threads, watching videos, and chatting with other gloamist hopefuls until dawn. But lately things had gotten worse. Posey had started staying up for days at a stretch and not leaving the house for weeks. Despair seemed to be chasing her heels as her shadow refused to quicken. She'd gone so deep down the rabbit hole that Charlie worried it had become an oubliette.