Quotes About Isolation

Lone women shouldn't stop in the middle of nowhere for giant unkempt strangers with duct tape on their faces.

He looked at the pain and he set himself apart from it. He saw it, examined it, identified it, corralled it. He isolated it. He challenged it. You against me? Dream on, pal. He built borders for it. Then walls. He built walls and forced the pain behind them and then he moved the walls inward, compressing the pain, crushing it, boxing it in, limiting it, beating it.

Reacher smiled. Bad luck and trouble, been my only friends.

I felt like a man who wakes alone on a deserted island to find that the rest of the world has stolen away in boats in the night. I felt like I was standing on a shore, watching small receding shapes on the horizon. I felt like I had been speaking English, and now I realized everyone else had been speaking a different language entirely. The world was changing. And I didn't want it to.

But you think it because you don't trust your colleagues. Not all of them. You don't believe in them. Which leaves you isolated. It's all down to you. But the army is different. Whatever else is wrong with it, you can trust your brother soldiers. And believe in them.

He liked the electric darkness and the hot dirty air and the blasts of noise and traffic and the manic barking sirens and the crush of people. It helped a lonely man feel connected and isolated both at the same time.

It helped a lonely man feel connected and isolated both at the same time.

The Zip Code is about the size of Chicago. With five people. But hey, welcome to Wyoming.

Reacher was led through the door on the left and onward to an interview room. Which had no windows. Just four blank walls, and a table bolted to the floor, with two chairs on one side and one on the other. The room had not been designed by the dining room guy. That was clear. There was no blond wood or carpet. Just scuffed white paint on cinder block, and a cracked concrete floor, and a fluorescent bulb in a wire cage on the ceiling.

Sooner or later you ended up an orphan. There was no escaping it.

There was nothing else in Carbone's six-by-eight cell. Nothing significant, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing explanatory. Nothing that revealed his history, his nature, his passions, or his interests. He had lived his life in secret, buttoned down, like his Saturday-night shirts.

He was alone. And unarmed. As agreed.

No. My situation is not the same at all. It's like the difference between being alone and being lonely. Two separate, distinct things.

North Carolina Badlands

empty place opposite with eyes too

They were in flat empty country and she eased the silent car faster down a dead-straight road. The hot sky was tinted bottle-green by the windshield.

The house was closed up and empty. Locked doors, shaded windows, no broken glass. No burglars, no squatters. No feral Rose Sanderson, going to earth in a place she remembered.

sat alone until Peterson stuck his head in the hallway and called for him. He took the borrowed Highway Patrol

Then a slow mile later such places started thinning out, in favor of vacant lots and piney woods, and a sense of empty vastness ahead.

house. Out of sight, out of mind. That was the way he wanted it. He crossed the shoulder and leaned on his mailbox, watching

the phone and the

He knew from long experience that nobody would try to join him. Nobody ever did. He radiated subliminal stay away signals and sane people obeyed them

Like an AWOL soldier saying goodbye to his

These guys hadn't mixed with the public since they took the bus up the Hudson to start their plebe year at the Point.