Quotes About Isolation

Yeah, I want to retreat from the world and ponder in solitude. At the same time I wouldn't mind at least a couple of people pondering my whereabouts.

if you tried to take into account all the heartbreak behind the lighted windows of a single city on a single night, your head would explode clean off your neck. [Ineffectual Tribute to Len]

They locked her in the cage when she started to bleed.

Why, he wondered, does a phone call to a distant loved one only intensify the emptiness and loneliness you were feeling before you called?

Robert Louis Stevenson, sung by Bryn Terfel: Now when day dawns on the brow of the moorland, Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold. Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed, The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.

I think writers have to able to enjoy solitude rather than just endure it. I've always enjoyed being left alone with my imagination, ever since I was a kid

There was something in him that always stood apart, that she couldn't reach and he wouldn't offer. It wasn't just the Job and its demands, but something deeper: a central core of loneliness. He had been like that even as a child. An observer. Always on the outside, even when he played with others. As Annie said, it was a part of his nature, and he didn't think he could change it if he tried.

Suomi had, over three decades and with funding from the NIH, deprived hundreds of infant monkeys of contact with their mothers, isolated them in small metal cages, and deliberately caused them to suffer anxiety, depression, diarrhea, hair loss, and to engage in forms of self-mutilation such as biting themselves and pulling out their own hair—social, emotional, and physical harm that lasted through their lives.

Every writer must acknowledge and be able to handle the unalterable fact that he has, in effect, given himself a life sentence in solitary confinement.

My uncle's town, Milburn, is one of those places that seems to create its own limbo and then to nest down in it.

You all know what's been happening to us. We sit around here and talk like a bunch of ghouls. Milly can hardly stand having us in my house anymore. We weren't always like this – we used to talk about all sorts of things. We used to have fun – there used to be fun. Now there isn't. We're all scared. But I don't know if some of you are admitting it. Well, it's been a year, and I don't mind saying that I am.

Bowling Alone

OS QUATRO CANTORES Pobre Marat em tua casa cercada estás adiantado um século de nós Enquanto tine a lâmpada lá fora e tuas palavras se decompõe escorre-se em sangue toda a verdade que aprendeste

Chiedi al Bunkerjakob che controllava tutto Come fai a resistere Lui disse Sia lode a quanto rende duri Io sto bene mangio le razioni di quelli là dentro La loro morte non mi tocca Tutto questo mi tocca quanto può toccarmi la pietra di questo muro

The book I selected for him was Corelli's Mandolin, a novel set on a small Greek island occupied by the Italian army during World War II. During the course of the story, the islanders have to accept the fact that they no longer control their own destiny and must come together and adapt to the new reality. In the end, they win by losing.

The sea defines us, connects us, separates us. Most of us experience only its edges, our available wilderness on a crowded island – it's why we call our coastal towns 'resorts', despite their air of decay.

I'm a queer crabbed old man, pent like Merlin in his tree trunk. Samolxis, the Thracian bear god, hibernating in his cave. The Last of the Seven Sleepers.

Arnie Kott owned the only harpsichord on Mars. However, it was out of tune, and he could find no one to service it. No matter which way you cut it, there were no harpsichord tuners on Mars.

God, how dark it is here, and totally silent. Nothing but me lives in this vacuum.

the dead stones, the dust-stricken weeds dry and dying, perceived nothing, recollected nothing, about him or themselves.

You have to be with other people, he thought. In order to live at all. I mean before they came here I could stand it... But now it has changed. You can't go back, he thought. You can't go from people to nonpeople. - J.R. Isidore

Maybe I'll go where I can see stars, he said to himself as the car gained velocity and altitude; it headed away from San Francisco, toward the uninhabited desolation to the north. To the place where no living thing would go. Not unless it felt that the end had come.

A human being without the proper empathy or feeling is the same as an android built so as to lack it, either by design or mistake. We mean, basically, someone who does not care about the fate which his fellow living creatures fall victim to; he stands detached, a spectator, acting out by his indifference John Donne's theorem that 'No man is an island,' but giving that theorem a twist: that which is a mental and a moral island is not a man .

He felt all at once like an ineffectual moth, fluttering at the windowpane of reality, dimly seeing it from outside.