Quotes About Isolation

There was a silence of the tomb yard. Sexed but sexless, the robots. Named but unnamed, and borrowing from humans everything but humanity, the robots stared at the nailed lids of their labelled F.O.B. boxes, in a death that was not even a death, for there had never been a life.

He had written a short story once called "The Pedestrian," about a man who is incarcerated by the police after he is stopped simply for walking.

What killed them?" Hathaway said simply, "Chicken pox.

I can't talk to the walls because they're yelling at me. I can't talk to my wife; she listens to the walls.

The old man looked as if he had not been out of the house in years. He and the white plaster walls inside were much the same. There was white in the flesh of his mouth and his cheeks and his hair was white and his eyes had faded, with white in the vague blueness there.

There are too many of us, he thought. There are billion of us and that's too many. Nobody knows anyone. Strangers come and take your blood.

Nadie tiene tiempo para nadie. Usted es uno de los pocos que me han hecho caso. Por eso me parece tan raro que sea un bombero. Es algo que de algún modo no parece hecho para usted.

You don't know what it is. Every time I'm out there I think, 'If I ever get back to Earth I'll stay there; I'll never go out again.' But I go out, and I guess I'll always go out.

There are too many of us, he thought. There are billions of us and that's too many. Nobody knows anyone. Strangers come and violate you. Strangers come and cut your heart out. Strangers come and take your blood. Good God, who were those men? I never saw them before in my life!

And Jim was there, half in, half out of the cold glass tides like someone abandoned on a seashore when a close friend has gone far out, and there is wonder if he will ever come back.

And this disease was called The Loneliness, because when you saw your home town dwindle to the size of your fist and then lemon-size and then pin-size and vanish in the fire-wake, you felt you had never been born, there was no town, you were nowhere, with space all around, nothing familiar, only other strange men.

She made empty rooms roar with accusation and shake down a fine dust of guilt that was sucked in their nostrils as they plunged about.

Will listened, cold but warming, glad to be in with a roof above, floor below, wall and door between too much exposure, too much freedom, too much night.

Neviens cilvÄ"ks otr? vairs neklaus?s, bet man vajag ar k?du parun?ties. Es nevaru run?t ar sien?m, jo t?s kliedz uz mani. Es nevaru run?t ar sievu, jo t? klaus?s vienÄ«gi sien?s. Es gribu, lai k?ds mani uz­klausÄ«tu. Un, ja es run?tu labi ilgi, varbÅ«t pateiktu kaut ko jÄ"dzÄ«gu. Un vÄ"l es gribu, lai jÅ«s man iem?c?t saprast to, ko es lasu.

the people who ate shadows for breakfast and steam for lunch and vapors for dinner

post-apocalyptic world where death provides the best way out of a ravaged landscape.

There are too many of us, he thought. There are billions of us and that's too many. Nobody knows anyone. Strangers come and violate you. Strangers come and cut your heart out. Strangers come and take your blood.

Jeff Spender

going away from the people who ate shadows for breakfast and steam for lunch and vapours for supper.

And then they were at the end of the line, the silver tracks, abandoned for eighteen years, ran on into rolling country. In 1910 people took the trolley out to Chessman's Park with vast picnic hampers. The track, never ripped up, still lay rusting among the hills.

And then, to the sound of death, the sound of the jets cutting the sky into two black pieces beyond the horizon, he would lie in the loft, hidden and safe, watching those strange new stars over the rim of the earth, fleeing from the soft colour of dawn.

We lived longer but at a price. We had to be our own children, having none.

I rarely watch the 'parlor walls' or go to races or Fun parks. So I've lots of time for crazy thoughts, I guess.

He realized that all men were like this; that each person was to himself one alone. One oneness, a unit in a society, but always afraid. Like here, standing. If he should scream, if he should holler for help, would it matter?