Quotes About Isolation

Joining an organization like Alcoholics Anonymous was also out of the question for Hank, partly because of his intensely private nature, but mostly because it would have been an acknowlegment that he had a problem.

Fame seems to carry with it an inability to be alone, or to be yourself without an audience, and the Hank Williams who encountered himself on Natchez Trace didn't like the company he found.

here in a place as far from God as one can go and still freeze.

well', he said. 'most people aren't like you. They're locked up in themselves. They live in their castles - all alone. They're like me.' 'Well, everyone lives in his own castle', said Maude. 'But that's no reason not to lower the drawbridge and go out on visits.

The only people who like to live alone more than comics are priests.

Being very famous is not the fun it sounds. It merely means you're being chased by a lot of people and you lose your privacy.

I've always believed that a writer has got to remain an outsider.

I don't like sleeping in the dark jungle by myself. Ren

It hasn't been easy to listen to the conversations at the table. Even without anyone expecting me to say anything. It hasn't been easy to sit there watching other people's lives go on. I

Colleen Gleason

A stray thought that maybe I should run away to South America started to sound like a good idea. I could change my name to Nikki Shelverstien and dye my hair a rich dark brunette. I could be a maid at a high-class hotel and pretend I didn't speak Spanish or English so everyone would leave me alone.

aloneness is a bad fiddle I play against my own / burning

Every door had several large, heavy-duty dead bolts on both the inside and outside. All of the windows were bolted, and at each end of the farmhouse, large metal chains attached to huge steel rings were embedded securely into the wall. The previous owners had apparently chained very large guard dogs on both ends of the house. And they had barred the windows and put dead bolts on both sides of each door. What on earth were they afraid of? Tom wondered.

No shame in saying that I felt a loneliness drifting through me. Funny how it was, everyone perched in their own little world with the deep need to talk, each person with their own tale, beginning in some strange middle point, then trying so hard to tell it all, to have it all make sense, logical and final.

[W]riting is a product of silence and solitude.

Eh bien, soit! Que ma guerre contre l'homme s'éternise, puisque chacun reconnait dans l'autre sa propre dégradation... puisque les deux sont ennemis mortels. Que je doive remporter une victoire désastreuse ou succomber, le combat sera beau: moi, seul, contre l'humanité.

I dreamt I had entered the body of a hog, that I could not easily get out again, and that I was wallowing in the filthiest slime. Was it a kind of reward? My dearest wish had been granted; I no longer belonged to mankind.

Cities make you afraid.

When everything is lonely I can be my best friend.

Separate we come, and separate we go, and this be it known, is all that we know.

Looking out of a tent door into a world of snow and vanishing hopes. ~George Mallory

In the north, we remember, our grief had reasons: confinement and cold, the pipes frozen, new snow so deep you wake, look out, and sink back into the week-long loneliness.

As far as the eye could reach, this lonely forest sea rolled on and on till its faint blue billows broke against an incredibly distant horizon.

The Windows In these dark rooms where I pass such listless days, I wander up and down looking for the windows – when a window opens there will be some relief. But there are no windows, or at least I cannot find them. And perhaps it's just as well. Perhaps the light would prove another torment. Who knows what new things it would reveal?