Quotes About Isolation

The one thing life has taught me is that most people spend their lives bottled up inside their houses doing the things they hate.

What's the furthest corner? Because that's where I want to be, alone with the only thing that I love.

Letter writing is the only device combining solitude with good company.

Absence - that common cure of love.

In solitude, where we are least alone.

none are left to please when none are left to love.

Sólo salgo para renovar la necesidad de estar solo.

Composing a letter is a way to combine solitude with good company.

This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!

Ivy dreams sullenly and alone of overthrowing the cities.

I was a shadow among shadows brooding over the fate of other shadows that I alone strove to summon up out of the all-pervading dusk.

Nothing grows among its pinnacles; there is no shade except under great toadstools of sandstone whose bases have been eaten to the shape of wine glasses by the wind. Everything is flaking, cracking, disintegrating, wearing away in the long, inperceptible weather of time. The ash of ancient volcanic outbursts still sterilizes its soil, and its colors in that waste are the colors that flame in the lonely sunsets on dead planets.

There is nothing more alone in the universe than man. He is alone because he has the intellectual capacity to know that he is separated by a vast gulf of social memory and experiment from the lives of his animal associates.

In the outside i smile, but deep inside im empty. No one notice how much i have to fake my smiles. It scares me how empty i feel inside.

Duele constatar que algo que ha sido tuyo, o así lo creíste, ya solo puedes abordarlo como extranjero, y que no hay mejor manera de probarle tu afecto que apartándote hacia la penumbra. Desarma pensar que poco a poco resbalas, así, hacia la penumbra de todo.

Stella, Nathan, and Steven looked at each other in the beams of their headlamps, which they'd clicked on as the twilight thickened. The wind moved the trees again. Darkness was growing complete. The rain was turning to sleet. Despite the sweat over her body, Stella's hands were numb with cold, and her fingers were growing uncooperative. A recipe for hypothermia.

But her so-called self-indulgence, her cutting everyone out of her life, had been an act of survival, not the act of a victim.

Daisy can't bear shutting off her Instagram space. What would she have left? She'd have no daily connection, no love, hearts, validation. She needs it all so badly just to keep going. Her life would be so empty. Lonely. Why can't she be more like the old schoolgirl-teen Daisy?

The world around me fades.

It bypasses Watt Lake and heads way up into the forest and mountains out the

You're kidding? These people live in a glass box with no option to shut the world out? That's kind of—" "Exhibitionist. Yeah. Fishbowl-like." "I was going to say vulnerable," she says softly.

It was the first time she'd experienced separation, and the empty feeling deep inside her hurt something awful. She had no one to talk to, no one to explain the hollowness.

Losing somebody you love is such a profoundly lonely experience, something only you endure in your own particular way.

The second people felt alone, I noticed, usually in the space between things—leaving a therapy session, at a red light, standing in a checkout line, riding the elevator—they picked up devices and ran away from that feeling. In a state of perpetual distraction, they seemed to be losing the ability to be with others and losing their ability to be with themselves.