Quotes About Isolation

Stay where I am? Jesus Christ, what choice do I have? This house is twenty-five hundred square feet of tomb. I'm not alive. I'm buried alive.

Absalom has made me into the worst kind of enemy: one with nothing to lose, and nothing left to fear.

Writing is a lonely occupation at best. Of course there are stimulating and even happy associations with friends and colleagues, but during the actual work of creation the writer cuts himself off from all others and confronts his subject alone. He* moves into a realm where he has never been before — perhaps where no one has ever been. It is a lonely place, even a little frightening.

You are wise enough to understand that being "a little lonely" is not a bad thing. A writer's occupation is one of the loneliest in the world, even if the loneliness is only an inner solitude and isolation, for that he must have at times if he is to be truly creative. And so I believe only the person who knows and is not afraid of loneliness should aspire to be a writer. But there are also rewards that are rich and peculiarly satisfying.

But I know the difference. Everyone else is a ghost. I exist here alone, stranded by choice. Deserted.

Wherever I went, I was on the wrong end of the stampede.

He can act a bit loner-ish, but I think he's some serial killer waiting to happen; he's just his own best company sometimes. And he's comfortable with that. I guess there's nothing wrong with that.

Books. I'd probably spend all my time alone and lost in books if I could. It's easier that way.

Everyone on this island wants something kept quiet. I want to roar

But she looks at me with this total incomprehension, like she's watching footage of the world being blown up, and I'm the little blurb on the corner of the screen saying what the weather is like outside.

There's an alone that calls out for rescue—but this appeared to be an alone that wanted to be left alone.

I'm not fine. Soon, the tears will come. I can sense them building in the pit of my stomach, coating the belly of candy. They will come when I am alone in the dark, in my own bed, with no one to comfort me. I will mourn Laura then, in private. A Category 5 hurricane is building in my heart and soul, but right now it's offshore, waiting to make landfall, waiting to crush me.

I wondered what kind of monsters lurked in theaters to prey on people sitting by themselves because their brothers wouldn't get out of bed to take them to the movies.

It's moments like this, when you need someone the most, that your world seems smallest.

I can't imagine anyone ever wanting to be alone with me that much.

I decided to give myself a Christmas present this year. I decided to spend the day only speaking to animals (real and stuffed), select humans as necessary so long as they weren't my parents or Langston, and a Snarl in a red Moleskine notebook—if he returned it to me.

Being alone has nothing to do with how many people are around"? From Richard Yates's Revolutionary Road

I haven't been able to reach her. And if I can't reach her, there's no way to keep her from being lost.

Being alone has nothing to do with how many people are around

Sources of economic growth are all completely destroyed – the airport (runways demolished, totally closed); the border for trade with Egypt (now with a sniper tower in the middle of the crossing); access to the ocean (completely cut off in the last two years ).

The story that had once singed and flared in her had long since receded, as her habit of silence turned, over the decades, into law. Did she mean to take it to the grave with her, then? Plainly, that was what she was going to do. She was going to take it to the grave. And it would end there. Dust.

Lying had become her clothing—without it she'd freeze.

no classes or exams, just acres of time in which to research and write—had swiftly revealed itself to be a glorified form of orphanhood.

She said to him then, crisply, "Never underestimate the passion of a lonely mind.