Quotes About Isolation

I don't know about normal human beings, but for alcoholics it's lethal. A secret that rotten will drive you to drink. And the drink will drive you to your grave. But not before it steals everything from you. Your loved ones, your job, your home. Your dignity. And finally, your life.

Of all the things we keep inside the worst are the secrets. The things we are so ashamed of, so afraid of, we need to hide them even from ourselves. Secrets lead to delusion and delusion leads to lies, and lies create a wall. Our secrets make us sick because they separate us from other people.

Screw off. Leave me alone!' Now she rounded on him. 'Where're your tears? Eh? You're more dead than she is. You can't even cry. And now what? You want me to stop? It hasn't even been a day yet, and you're what? Bored with it? Not the center of the universe anymore? You want everything to go back to the way it was, like that.' Clara snapped her fingers in his face. 'You disgust me.

It was as though I wasn't human.' 'That's the necessary first step,' said Myrna. 'They dehumanise their victim. You've put it well.

wondered why she chose her isolated

Our secrets make us sick because they separate us from other people. Keep us alone. Turn us into fearful, angry, bitter people. Turn us against others, and finally against ourselves.

lines from The Tempest to unnerve

I was hanged for living alone," said Ruth. It was rare, almost unheard of, that she quoted her own poem, but they heard it now. "For having a weedy farm in my own name / And a surefire cure for warts.

The old Hadley house was abandoned now. Had been empty for months. But Peter knew it wasn't empty. For one thing he'd left part of himself in it. Not a hand or a nose or a foot, thank God. But things that had no substance but fantastic weight. He'd left his hope there, and trust. He'd left his faith there too. What little he had, he'd lost. There. Peter

How far away the shore must seem when you're on thin ice.

Had he inadvertently made the famed homicide department of the Surete an island? Far from saving careers of promising agents, had he in fact imprisoned them, kept them from the mainland of their peers?

Surely you can feel it. Do you ever feel lost, as though people are speaking a foreign language, as though there's something going on which everyone else gets, but you don't?

Was there an invisible world, Gamache wondered. A place where diminished people met, where they recognized each other? Because if he knew one thing about Julia Martin it was that she too was invisible.

Even Google Maps doesn't have it," said Huifen. "And the GPS thinks we parked in the middle of the forest." "The middle of nowhere," said Jacques. "It's still recalculating," said Nathaniel. "She seemed quite concerned for us.

You don't want to go into your head alone, mon petit. It's a very scary place.

When we did eventually get to the party - me walking next to Dad's Volvo driving at five miles an hour - I had a horrible time. Everyone laughed at first but then more or less ignored me. In a mood of defiant stuffed oliveness I did have a dance by myself but things kept crashing to the floor around me. The host asked if I would sit down. I had a go at that but it was useless. In the end I was at the gate for about an hour before Dad arrived.

I am a pop widow.

I am abandoned on the ship of life." "I know." "Jas, you are not really cheering me up." "Well, I know and that is because there is really nothing to be cheerful about; I would hate to be you." in

However, I will never feel anything again. Good. I am done with love. It's a mug's game. I am just going to sit in my room for the rest of my life not doing stuff.

Abandoned buildings are like abandoned people. They grow bitter and start to keep bad company.

There's a point of poverty at which the spirit isn't with the body all the time. It finds the body really too unbearable. So it's almost as if you were talking to the soul itself. And a soul's not properly responsible.

I crawled back into myself all alone, just delighted to observe that I was even more miserable than before, because I had brought a new kind of distress and something that resembled true feeling into my solitude.

This is why aliens won't talk to us .

No amount of rationalisation, reform, or Freudian analysis can quite annul the thrill of the chimney-corner whisper or the lonely wood.