Quotes About Isolation

I knew I was a fool. Even if he stayed past that spring to the next, such a man could never be happy closed up on my narrow shores.

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 of a rising hysteria. This is what it will be, every day, without him. I felt a wild-eyed tightness in my chest, like a scream. Every day, without him.

I came for her, but there was no one who would come for me. The thought was steadying. After all, I had been alone my whole life.

To be utterly alone. What worse punishment could there be…

Daedalus did not long outlive his son. His limbs turned gray and nerveless, and all his strength was transmuted into smoke. I had no right to claim him, I knew it. But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me.

I waited for someone to remark on my absence, but no one did, for no one had noticed. Why would they? I was nothing, a stone. One more nymph child among the thousand thousands.

What is that if not a bad life? Luring others to you, then turning from them?

This was how I came to be ten, and an orphan. This is how I came to Phthia.

they won't fear you as they fear the rest of us.

Exile might satisfy the anger of the living but it did nothing to appease the dead.

I felt as if I was dying just to think of it; plummeting through a blind, black sky

I talked with Junior Allen. He didn't have his mind on it. He was crouched in the brush, and he could taste lamb, and he was alerted for the first shy sound of the little hoofs coming along the trail. I gently and indirectly advanced the idea of my coming along, and he firmly closed the door. He got up and sprang nimbly onto the dock, snapped the weak dock light on, checked his lines, adjusted a fender and came aboard again, restless.

Disposable cubicles for dispensable people.

Rather than being a 'ship of state', Italy often seems more like a flotilla of boats, each piloted according to a different chart, each competing for access to the most favourable winds, yet each afraid of being isolated from the other craft.

The terrible thing about having New York go stale on you is that there's nowhere else. It's the top of the world. All we can do is go round and round in a squirrel cage.

The young man walks fast by himself through the crowd that thins into the night streets;

Thus like a Captive in an Isle confin'd, Man walks at large, a Pris'ner of the Mind

NOW  with a general Peace the World was blest, While Ours, a World divided from the rest

There are two remaining speakers of Ayapaneco, an indigenous Mexican language; unfortunately, Manuel Segovia and Isidro Velázquez refuse to talk to one another, even though they are neighbors in their little village in the state of Tabasco.

Sartre felt that Hell is other people, but precisely the opposite is true. Hell is being left alone forever with no other reality than your own consciousness of yourself. It is being locked in a casket of your own internal chaos with no hope of a window, or door leading in light from outside to give you a moment's respite from yourself. Hell is the refusal of the gift of the other.

indonesia berpenduduk (sekarang lebih dari)100 juta dengan kekayaan sumber daya alam yang mungkin lebih besar daripada negara Asia yang lain. Tidak masuk akal bagi AS untuk mengucilkan sekelompok besar orang yang duduk di atas sumber daya ini, kecuali memang ada alasan yang amat sangat kuat.

I was worse off than even Alison was; she hated life, I hated mysef. I had created nothing, I belonged to nothingness, to the néant, and it seemed to me that my own death was the only thing left that I could create.

Thus it had come about that she had read far more fiction, and far more poetry, those two sanctuaries of the lonely, than most of her kind.

When I was going on one day in the car about not having any close friends - using my favourite metaphor: the cage of glass between me and the rest of the world - she just laughed. 'You like it,' she said. 'You say you're isolated, boyo, but you really think you're different.