Quotes About Isolation

If you close your eyes, no one can see you...

Jeez. Not even the ghosts wanted to have lunch with me.

No matter how far you are separated from other people if you have an idea of time why then you are in the same world with them you are part of them but if you lose time the others go on ahead of you and you are left alone hanging in air lost to everything forever.

That night I was alone in my room with the lights off. The radio was on and I was staring at the ceiling. I couldn't sleep much at night anymore because that was when the hollow, empty feeling was the worst. At night there's nothing to hold your mind to the earth, and you spend the entire time falling into an abyss. The only cure is the rising of the sun.

There is no time in prison, unless you create it for yourself. People on the outside seem to believe time passes slowly in prison, but it doesn't. The truth is that time doesn't pass at all. It's an eternal vacuum, and each moment is meaningless because it has no context. Tomorrow may as well be yesterday. That's why there's so much stagnation inherent in prison life - because there is no momentum of any sort.

Can you believe it's been over seventeen years since I've touched snow? Since I've heard that soft, comforting sound it makes as it crunches beneath your boots? It won't be much longer. I can feel it in my bones. Soon I'll have snow again. I'll stand in it and look up at the stars until I can no longer feel my feet.

The jail clothes are designed to strip you of any identity and reduce you to a number. You don't even feel like a human being when you're wearing them. You have no dignity.

There was no safe place in all the world for me. My stomach was filled with ice water. Hearing Domini was the final straw. Something in me broke. All the King's horses and all the King's men would never be able to put me back together again.

As I grew older I learned to be ashamed of being poor, too. It became humiliating, something I'd do everything I could to hide from the rest of the world. I developed an overwhelming sense of being excluded from everything. Everywhere you look you see people with things that you do not have, and it has a profound mental effect. That's mostly during the teenage years.

Even now, after having been locked in a cell for years, at the coming of winter I can still close my eyes and feel myself walking the streets as everyone else lies in bed asleep. I remember how the ice sounded as it cracked in the trees every time the wind blew. The air could be so cold that it scoured my throat with each breath, but I would not want to go indoors and miss the magick of it.

Je crois que je vais me suicider sur facebook

Cold, cold water, surrounds me now, and all I've got is your hand.

it) was like being under the sea, in aquamarine light. However bright or loud your surroundings, you were somehow always alone.

His own sterility was apparent to him and would soon, he felt sure, be visible to others. Curiously, he didn't feel depressed at the prospect. He was almost intrigued by the idea of giving in to his oddness, turning into one of those remote, ineffectual creatures, so warped by their solitude that they became distasteful to normal people.

Something in him has changed, he can't seem to connect properly with the world. He feels this not as a failure of the world but as a massive failing in himself, he would like to change it but doesn't know how. In his clearest moments he thinks that he has lost the ability to love, people or places or things, most of all the person and place and thing that he is. Without love nothing has value, nothing can be made to matter very much.

For she too has her little pains, and they wear her out, though she does not speak of them, or is not asked, and when they show themselves it tends to be when she's alone.

De geest deinst terug voor zijn eigen afwezigheid, kan niet aan zichzelf denken als niet-denkend, de kilste leegte die er is.

Something is wrong with him. You mark my words. He's a wild donkey of

In the street, he turned west and walked against a tide of blank-eyed, gum-chewing faces. A taxi went over a manhole cover, clink-clank. Steam was rising from an excavation at the corner. The world was like a puzzle with half the pieces missing. What was the pont of all these drab buildings, this dirty sky?

She was back on the island. On Yamatai. A hellish storm raged all around her.

In every story, in every life, there are moments of death that take away our name and rename us as strangers, orphans or widows. At the moment of being unnamed, we are thrown into our story. We lose the name Friend and are given the name Reject.

An armed man is a little republic unto himself

I spend my life essentially alone at a computer. That doesn't change. I have the same challenges every day.

It's not like it ruined my life, I was going to say, but then I didn't. Because it occurred to me that maybe it had ruined my life, in a kind of quiet way--a little lie, probably not so vital, insidiously separating me from everyone I loved.