Quotes About Isolation

It's easy to be kind when you are poor. I've met a lot of kind people in my travels, but the cost of their kindness is exclusion from the outside world. As soon as a road is built, the kindness vanishes.

Merecemos o nosso passo de bichos de dilúvio merecemos que nos ceguem todos os dias merecemos estar sozinhos rodeados de prédios merecemos ter connosco toda a vontade fim princípio moleza de costumes [...]

No tengo amigos. Es demasiado peligroso" La ardilla miedosa.

I didn't have a lot of communication with Elvis. You had to go through a barricade to get to Elvis. It was people hanging on every word, and I felt very uncomfortable a lot of times.

Solitude can reshape your life. Like a river that gets cut off from the sea. You think it's moving somewhere, but it's not. You can drown inside yourself.

Without the musician, all life would be loneliness.

In fact, the way to punish someone might be to remove them from their circle of family and friends, isolate them in a cold country, and shatter them with loneliness.

It was very modern and deeply western to listen to music that no one else could hear. Private music led to private thoughts. Private thoughts led to private desires, to private fulfillments or private hungers, to a whole private universe away from parents, family and society.

She wanted to tell them that whatever happened, whatever they chose, one day they would have to come awake, everyone would have to stand up and confront themselves and realize it wasn't the party that made them do it. One day, they would be alone with their actions.

Surely another story could serve the same purpose, and lift her out of her solitude.

This is the grief that makes our kind choose to be stones and trees rather than flesh.

That is what exile meant: no one was coming, no one ever would. There was fear in that knowledge, but after my long night of terrors it felt small and inconsequential. The worst of my cowardice had been sweated out. In its place was a giddy spark. I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.

Those seconds, half seconds, that the line of our gaze connected, were the only moment in my day that I felt anything at all. The sudden swoop of my stomach, the coursing anger. I was like a fish eyeing the hook.

The door closed, and the room swelled around me like a bruise. When she was here, I could pretend it felt small because of her, but when she left the four wood walls seemed to press towards me, like lungs that had breathed in.

named me Hawk, Circe, for my yellow eyes, and the strange, thin sound of my crying.

If I were valuable to anyone, I would not be allowed to live alone.

Everything was united by the steady rise and fall of nature's breath. Everything except for me.

The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no sounds, and the stillness frightened me. It is like a tomb. I rose and rubbed my limbs, slapped them awake, trying to ward off a rising hysteria. This is what it will be, every day, without him.

Exile might satisfy the anger of the living, but it did not appease the dead.

that all my life had been murk and depths, but I was not a part of that dark water. I was a creature within it.

I did not pretend to be a mortal. I showed my lambent, yellow eyes at every turn. None of it made a difference. I was alone and a woman, that was all that mattered.

The air had a stinging weight like ocean waves. I felt myself a stranger to the world.

I was a gray space filled up with nothing. What could I say? One of us must grieve. I would not let it be him.

I did not mind the emptiness either. For a thousand years I had tried to fill the space between myself and my family