Quotes About Isolation

When you live alone you no longer know what it is to tell something: the plausible disappears at the same time as the friends.

Prima di prendere questa decisione mi sentivo in una solitudine così terribile che pensavo al suicidio. Ciò che mi ha trattenuto è stata l'idea che nessuno, assolutamente nessuno si sarebbe commosso alla mia morte, che in morte sarei stato ancora più solo che in vita.

Ah ! quelle plaisanterie. Pas besoin de gril : l'enfer, c'est les Autres.

Je parcours la salle du regard, et un violent dégoût m'envahi. Que fais-je ici? Qu'ai-je été me mêler de discourir sur l'humanisme? Pourquoi ces gens sont-ils là? Pourquoi mangent-ils? C'est vrai qu'ils ne savent pas, eux, qu'ils existent. J'ai envie de partir, de m'en aller quelque part où je serais vraiment à ma place , où je m'emboîterais...Mais ma place n'est nulle part; je suis de trop.

She takes her pleasure and I am no more for her than if I had never met her; she has suddenly emptied herself of me, and all other consciousness in the world has also emptied itself of me.

Thus we have neither behind us, nor before us in a luminous realm of values, any means of justification or excuse. We are left alone, without excuse.

Tal vez sea imposible comprender el propio rostro. ¿O acaso es porque soy un hombre solo? Los que viven en sociedad han aprendido a mirarse en los espejos, tal como los ven sus amigos. Yo no tengo amigos; ¿por eso es mi carne tan desnuda? Sí, es como la naturaleza sin los hombres.

Le silence, c'est Dieu. L'absence, c'est Dieu. Dieu, c'est la solitude des hommes.

I am free: there is absolutely no more reason for living, all the ones I have tried have given way and I can't imagine any more of them.

jag vet på förhand att dagen är tillspillogiven. Jag kommer inte att göra någonting bra förrän kanske natten faller på. Det beror på solen; den kastar ett svagt guldskimmer över den smutsvita rök som hänger i luften över järnvägen, den silar in i mitt rum, blond och blek och ritar på bordet fyra matta, falska reflexer.

I am alone now. Not quite alone. Hovering in front of me is still this idea. It has rolled itself into a ball, it stays there like a large cat; it explains nothing, it does not move, and it contents itself with saying no.

A stranger to the needs, hopes, and pleasures of the species, I squandered myself coldly in order to charm it. It was my audience; I was separated, from it by footlights that forced me into a proud exile which quickly turned to anguish.

Biz gümbürtüye gitmiÅŸ insanlar?z, diyordu gururla, biz hayat? ?skalayanlardan?z. Hiçbir iÅŸe yaramayaca??z.

Roquentin is visited by a deeper, more philosophical ailment: he falls into bouts of what he calls his "Nausea." These are episodes in which, afflicted by his sense that there is "absolutely no more reason for living

At one point, Roquentin realizes that the seat he is on is a seat only by name: "it could just as well be a dead donkey. . . . Things are divorced from their names. They are there, grotesque, headstrong, gigantic, and it seems ridiculous to call them seats or say anything at all about them: I am in the midst of things, nameless things.

Le teníamos un miedo horrible porque sabíamos que estaba solo.

L'angoisse commence pour un homme et le délaissement et les sueurs de sang, quand il ne peut plus avoir d'autre témoin que lui-même.

Mein augenblickliches Leben ist nicht besonders glanzvoll, [...]

When you live alone, you even forget what it is to tell a story: plausibility disappears at the same time as friends. You let events flow by too: you suddenly see people appear who speak and then go away; you plunge into stories of which you can't make head or tail: you'd make a terrible witness. But on the other hand, everything improbable, everything which nobody would ever believe in a cafe, comes your way.

I was filled with dread at the thought my mind had skipped town and left me behind to pay the rent. --Dexter

It's always me, isn't it? I'm not really a very nice person, but for some reason it's always me that they come to with their problems.Oh, Dexter, a savage inhuman monster has taken my boyfriend! Well damn it, I'm a savage inhuman monster, too—didn't that entitle me to some rest?

And so Deb is the only person in the world who gives a rusty possum fart whether I live or die.

Talking to a shrink was out of the question, of course; I would frighten the poor thing to death, and he might feel honor bound to have me locked away somewhere. Certainly I could not argue with the wisdom of that idea.

the only light in this tiny-mooned night comes from the windows of the apartment building, a matching purple halo from each window, a dozen televisions all tuned to the pointless, empty, idiotic unreality o the same reality show, everyone watching in vacuous lockstep as true reality cruises slowly past outside licking its chops