Quotes About Isolation

I think about dying. I've come to realize we all die alone in one way or another.

The Manhattan District bore no relation to the industrial or social life of our country; it was a separate state, with its own airplanes and its own factories and its thousands of secrets. It had a peculiar sovereignty, one that could bring about the end, peacefully or violently, of all other sovereignties.

there wasn't anything beyond the Flamingo except desert and McCarran Field.

If you've been around Los Angeles much, you know that desolate, unlighted strip of highway, Chavez Ravine Road, that stretches from Adobe Street to Elysian Park. It's solitary and lonely enough in the daytime.

Precisely because she had tended and pitied, the desolation is hers as well.

We still groped for each other on the backstairs or in parked cars as the road around us grew glossy with ice and our breath softened the view through the glass already laced with frost, but more frequently I was finding myself sleepless, and he was running out of lullabies. But damn if there isn't anything sexier than a slender boy with a handgun, a fast car, a bottle of pills.

Wearing your clothes or standing in the shower for over an hour, pretending that this skin is your skin, these hands your hands, these shins, these soapy flanks

I woke up in the morning and I didn't want anything, didn't do anything, couldn't do it anyway, just lay there listening to the blood rush through me and it never made any sense, anything. And I can't eat, can't sleep, can't sit still or fix things

And words, little words, words too small for any hope or promise, not really soothing

You swallow a bottle of sleeping pills but they don't work.

The world doesn't know what to do with my love. Because it isn't used to being loved. It's a framework problem.

Every morning the same big and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out You will be alone always and then you will die .

This is where he trots out his sadness. Little black cloud, little black umbrella.

because you are weak and hollow and it doesn't matter anymore.

I was away, I don't know where, lying on the floor, pretending I was dead.

leave the gun on the table, this has nothing to do with happiness.

and suddenly darkness, suddenly only darkness.

There's nowhere to go , I thought. There's nowhere to go.

I woke up in the morning and I didn't want anything, didn't do anything, couldn't do it anyway, just lay there listening to the blood rush through me and it never made any sense, anything.

So here we are again, words on a page, the voice that wants to be a hand, the bridge with no opposite side.

After a half hour of sitting and staring at Mister Lewis sitting on his box, Patrick heard the sound of an engine

Love is unbroken country. Every step ya take deeper into it changes you. Makes you more. Changes the geography of who you are. And if yer brave enough to enter it alone and find your place in it, ya can't never be lonesome again on accounta ya come to live in everything love touches.

I learned that I could draw the boundaries of my physical self inward, collapse the space I occupied and become a mote, a speck, an indifferent atom in its own peculiar orbit.

Cuál es el opuesto de dos? Tu y yo en soledad