Quotes About Isolation

That's what cell phones are for—to mask our rapidly progressing helplessness vis-à-vis the real world when we find ourselves face to face with it.

They pretend they're keeping everyone out, when in fact they're locked in.

But this had always been part of his work—no matter how vast the security apparatus behind you, the fact was that, in the end, you were alone.

what doesn't begin with love and death and end in loneliness?

Nobody takes any notice of old women who wander around with their shopping bags.

People are always far away.

Anyone who has ever tried to write a novel knows what an arduous task it is, undoubtedly one of the worst ways of occupying oneself. You have to remain within yourself all the time, in solitary confinement. It's a controlled psychosis, an obsessive paranoia manacled to work, completely lacking in the feather pens and bustles and Venetian masks we would ordinarily associate with it, clothed instead in a butcher's apron and rubber boots, eviscerating knife in hand.

This was how the end must look. No deluge, no rains of fire, no Auschwitz, no comet. This is how the world will look when God has deserted it, whoever he is. Like an abandoned house, everything coated in cosmic dust, muggy and steeped in silence. Everything living will congeal and grow mold in the light that has no pulse and therefore is dead. In this spectral light everything will crumble.

?ycie w t?umie jest gorsze ni? wi?zienie.

I have nowhere to return to. It's like a state of imprisonment. The walls of the cell are the horizon of what I can see. Beyond them exists a world that's alien to me and doesn't belong to me. So for people like me the only thing possible is here and now, for every future is doubtful, everything yet to come is barely sketched and uncertain, like a mirage that can be destroyed by the slightest twitch of the air.

Sometimes I feel as if we're living inside a tomb, a large, spacious one for lots of people. I looked at the world wreathed in gray Murk, cold and nasty. The prison is not outside, but inside each of us. Perhaps we simply don't know how to live without it.

People shouldn't be allowed to live so far away," he said at the front door. "What do you gain by hiding away from the world like this? It'll catch up with you anyway.

Marta háza olyan, mint ? – hozzá hasonlóan nem ismer semmit, sem Istent, sem a teremtményeit, s?t saját magát sem, semmit sem akar tudni a világról. Egyetlen pillanat van benne, csak a "most", az viszont óriási, minden irányban elnyúlik, agyonnyom, nem embernek való.

The further north you go, the more people concentrate on themselves, and in some sort of northern madness (no doubt due to the lack of sun) they ascribe to themselves too much. They make themselves responsible for their actions.

I'd started to put on my boots, but that terrible gray morning alarmed me. Sometimes I feel as if we're living inside a tomb, a large, spacious one for lots of people. I looked at the world wreathed in gray Murk, cold and nasty. The prison is not outside, but inside each of us.

The island state is a state of remaining within one's own boundaries, undisturbed by any external influence; it resembles a kind of narcissism or even autism.

Whenever I set off on any sort of journey I fall off the radar. No one knows where I am.

They really were the people from the well - they'd fallen into it long ago and had now arranged their lives at the bottom of it, thinking the well was the entire world.

She passed through her childhood blindfolded, picking her way cautiously along, sensitive fingertips stretched out before her to avoid sharp corners and unyielding walls, clinging close to the protection of solitude and isolation.

Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow,Or by the lazy Scheldt, or wandering Po.

Then the boy realised,the penguin wasn't lost,he was just lonely.

The individual will always be a minority. If a man is in a minority of one, we lock him up.

De nada sirve que nos tapemos las orejas. Los comentarios, las risitas irónicas, los cascotes que caen de no se sabe dónde, nos atormentan en tal forma los minutos del día y del insomnio, que nos dan ganas de suicidarnos nuevamente.

Il n'est pire exil que celui du coeur