Quotes About Isolation

I never told anybody what was going on. Not a soul.

We've forgotten that we were once prey, not predator -- forgotten the intense terror, the claustrophobic horror .../ ... The ALIENATION ...

People are islands,' she said. 'They don't really touch. However close they are, they're really quite separate. Even if they've been married for fifty years.

Loneliness becomes a lover, solitude a darling sin.

Siberia is so big, it's almost more an idea than a place

Excuse me for a moment, will ye. I think I have to talk to the river,' he said unsteadily and flopped over the side-rail.

More often than not, the wolves showed themselves in other ways—a track etched in the mud, a few scats here and there, the well-chewed, moss-covered bones of a Sitka blacktailed deer, and, most frequently and possibly most grand of all, a late-evening chorus of howls heard from the deck of our boat at a lonely anchorage. The sound echoed softly off the high granite walls of some slope or side hill, somewhere where the wolves hunted in the vast sea of verdant rain forest.

Wherever you are, stay there. I will find you. The world darkens and narrows; the places where we can communicate, where we can meet, are diminishing and departing.

I realised that the moon was not a safe place. It knew a thousand ways to kill you if you were stupid, if you were careless, if you were lazy, but the real danger was the people around you. The moon was not a world, it was a submarine. Outside was death. I would be sealed in with these people. There was no law, no justice: there was only management. The moon was the frontier, but it was the frontier to nothing. There was nowhere to run.

Uniquely, he understood what his days with BeeJee &ersenn had been teaching him: he, alone, was the alien.

onward he went, a named thing, rooted in the universe, yet apart from it, through the night and the rain-dancing streets.

The Cortas are the most egocentric, narcissist, arrogant – outright weird – pack of fucks I have ever met,' Marina says. 'And every second I am away from them, it kills me.

I am cold," he said. The three words shattered. Before them he had not known that he could speak, that there even existed a thing called speech. "I am cold, and I can speak," he said. The words sounded good to him.

only one man was left in Neu Ulmsbad Square to watch the black and silver pantycars come tunneling out of the clouds. "Is this part of it?" asked the man called Kilimanjaro West.

She wished she had Benji Dog back. At least he would have been something to talk to. No famulus. She felt very naked, as if she had slipped through the sustaining fingers of the Compassionate Society and had not been missed.

What happens to sanity when you chain it to a wall?

Everyone, it seemed to him, lived their lives out of little boxes, opening different ones for different occasions. Nobody ever gave their whole self away. Cops were like that, each box a safety mechanism. Most people you met in the course of your life, you never even learned their names. Everybody was boxed off from everybody else. It was called society.

There was a ring at the door. He did not answer. They would go away, and he would be alone again with his grief, his impotent anger, and his undusted possessions.

Robert, my closest brother, had died in prison—the story she heard was that he'd had a complication from some medications and had a heart attack. The coldest part is that he'd been dead and buried for two months—nobody besides my daughter had thought to tell me about it! Again, that's how death comes to you in prison.

A plague on eminence! I hardly dare cross the street anymore without a convoy, and I am stared at wherever I go like an idiot member of a royal family or an animal in a zoo and zoo animals have been known to die from stares.

sometimes all I am is dark emptiness I can't hide in the sleeves of my own robes

cut off everything from everything stand here the soles of your feet the ground your brain in the black nothing between

night after night after night stay up all night nothing but your own night

Like many entertainers, Hank always needed an audience. Nothing unsettled him more than his own company.