Quotes About Isolation

The door that would not open no matter how hard you pushed, no matter how long you pounded on it. The screams no one heard. Darkness, hunger, pain. Slow suffocation. One day it occurred to me that I needed to experience the same suffering he had.

No matter how hard I listened, there was never any sign of someone living under the floor, and yet this silence made me all the more conscious of his existence.

I worried that if she were forced to say more, she might shrink farther away and disappear altogether.

I betrayed you," I said, so quietly that I hardly knew it was my own voice. It felt like a lie even though I told the truth. He stood perfectly still. A siren sounded, long and low. "You can't get home. They've stopped the boat," he said. Strangely, I did not think about Mother, or what I would tell her tomorrow. It seemed that tomorrow would never come,(…)

As I traced his profile with my eyes, I realized that I could never ask anything of him again: not caresses, not protection, not warmth. He would never dive into the pool inside me, clouded as it was with the little girl's tears. The waves of regret were gentle, but I knew they would ripple on forever.

I can hear and smell and feel everything happening in the hotel. I can't say I have much experience or even any real desires of my own, but just by shutting myself up behind the desk, I can imagine every scene being played out by the people spending the night at the Iris. Then I erase them one by one and find a quiet place to lie down and sleep

Closed in the hidden room, I continued to disappear.

The rays of the setting sun stretched far into the room. Root traced the circles around the twin primes as the steam from the rice cooker floated in from the kitchen. The Professor stared through the window as if he were looking out at the desert, though all he could really see was his tiny, neglected garden.

Your voice is trapped inside this machine. It's not broken, it's just been sealed off now that it no longer has a purpose.

And what will happen if words disappear? I whispered to myself, afraid that if I said it too loudly, it might come true.

I stood in the middle of that emptiness, feeling myself on the verge of being drawn into its terrible depth

Ibland sätter jag händerna mot väggen och försöker föreställa mig hur det är utanför. Jag tänker att det kanske kan gå att uppfatta någonting genom händernas beröring med väggen. Sådant som vindriktning, kyla, fukt, platsen du är på, vattnets porlande floden. Men det går aldrig. Väggen är bara en vägg. Det finns ingenting bakom den, den är inte sammankopplad med någonting.

Excuse me,- I said, but my voice seemed to disappear into the dark. It was my body. In this gloomy, cramped box, I had eaten poison plants and died, hidden away from prying eyes. Crouching down at the door, I wept. For my dead self.

È proprio questo il senso di un esemplare: rinchiuderlo equivale a separarsene, così si compie il suo destino ultimo.

Formless days passed one after the other, as if swollen into an indistinguishable mass by the damp weather.

I sometimes wonder what was disappeared first—among all the things that have vanished from the island.

People—and I'm no exception—seem capable of forgetting almost anything, much as if our island were unable to float in anything but an expanse of totally empty sea.

She got off at the train station, the final stop, but in the station saw neither signs nor people. She sat on a cold bench in the waiting room, listening. She was starting to wonder if this was really a station. Based on experience she'd assumed as much, but you couldn't count on things being the way they'd always been. Perhaps this was no longer a station, and she simply hadn't heard the news.

Man sagte mir, die Welt sei vernetzt, die Entfernung spiele keine Rolle mehr. Es schien mir aber so, als ob nicht die Entfernung, sondern die Nähe keine Rolle mehr spiele. Auch jemanden, der nebenan sitzt, kann man eine E-Mail schicken. Ist die Welt wirklich vernetzt oder ist sie vielleicht verletzt?

Locked in my invisible cage, I am living proof of human rights violations, and I'm not even human

All the eyes flew away from me like mayflies, I couldn't catch a single one

Psychotherapy is a cyclical process from isolation into relationship. It is cyclical because the patient, in terror of existential isolation, relates deeply and meaningfully to the therapist and then, strengthened by this encounter, is led back again to a confrontation with existential isolation.

At that time, I feel sad, and I feel no one knows how hard I work and how many tears. They only know the score. At that time, I feel very lonely because no one understands since they haven't been world No. 1 before.

You know golf is very lonely. When I'm in the States, I feel like if I just think about Taiwan, my friends, my fans, I won't feel like I'm alone.