Quotes About Isolation

Melinda's trick is looking hard in the mirror, Absolving herself and cracking open doors to the next place. But the girl at that school, so haunted, smashed all the reflections boarded up the windows and bolted the doors, forever stuck at 15 years old judged to serve a life sentence for what they did.

And that's the problem. When you're alive, people can hurt you. It's easier to crawl into a bone cage or a snowdrift of confusion. It's easier to lock everybody out. But it's a lie.

I'm one of those people who never knows what to say, so I say nothing. Then people think I am a snob. Or if I do say something, half the time I blurt out the wrong thing and embarrass myself.

When you're alive, people can hurt you. It's easier to crawl into a bone cage or a snowdrift of confusion. It's easier to lock everybody out.

It had become easier to lie about most things because it didn't hurt as much when he ignored me.

You're not dead, but you're not alive either. You're a wintergirl, Lia-Lia

You're not dead, but you're not alive, either. You're a winter girl

Where did you live before you came here?" I asked. "The moon," he said smoothly. "We left because the place had no atmosphere.

Ci tenevamo per mano mentre percorrevamo il sentiero di pan di zenzero dentro la foresta, col sangue che ci gocciolava dalle dita. Danzavamo con le streghe e baciavamo i mostri. Ci trasformammo in ragazze d'inverno e, quando lei cercò di andar via, la spinsi di nuovo nella neve perché avevo paura di restare da sola.

12. I wasn't just encased in hardening concrete up to my chin; it was pouring down my throat. I was in a race to see if I would die from the outside in or the inside out.

We turned us into wintergirls, and when she tried to leave, I pulled her back into the snow because I was afraid to be alone

Isolate her, and however abundant the food or favourable the temperature, she will expire in a few days not of hunger or cold, but of loneliness.

Is that what I am? I don't know what the hell I am anymore. Oh, bullshit. You're a guy, a human being. Just another poor son of a bitch who doesn't want to be alone when the sacred ginmill closes.

books everywhere piled up in heaps, the rare companions of a solitude not self-imposed but sought.

But that is what islands are for; they are places where different destinies can meet and intersect in the full isolation of time.

She gave me the impression of someone engaged in giving a series of savage caricatures of herself — but this is common to most lonely people who feel that their true self can find no correspondence in another.

For years one has to put up with the feeling that people do not care, really care, about one; then one day with growing alarm, one realizes that it is God who does not care; and not merely that he does not care, he does not care one way or the other.

Human history is the sad result of each one looking out for himself.

There is no wilderness. There is only our inability to fill the emptiness in which we live.

We couldn't imagine the emptiness of a creature who put a razor to her wrists and opened her veins, the emptiness and the calm.

The truth is, I feel beyond sad. I feel empty. Numb.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you: Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.

I survive at the edge of friends circles.

Pretty sad. Pretty lonely. But that's how I prefer it? I quess? I guess. It's a good guess. It's the best quess ever.