Quotes About Isolation

I was anxious to deal with this shadow by myself alone -- and to this day I don't know why I was so jealous of sharing with any one the peculiar blackness of that experience.

But what I felt most was my being a stranger to the ship; and if all the truth must be told, I was somewhat of a stranger to myself.

The reaches opened before us and closed behind, as if the forest had stepped leisurely across the water to bar the way for our return. We penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness. It was very quiet there. At

Marlow ceased, and sat apart, indistinct and silent, in the pose of a meditating Buddha. Nobody moved for a time. We have lost the first of the ebb, said the Director, suddenly. I raised my head. The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky—seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.

We penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness. It was very quiet there.

No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one's existence,—that which makes its truth, its meaning—its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream—alone. . .

I looked at him as you peer down at a man who is lying at the bottom of a precipice where the sun never shines.

Their minds are of the stay-at-home order, and their home is always with them—the ship;

arrested me, and he stood by civilly, holding a half-pint champagne bottle (medical comforts) with the candle stuck in it. To my question he said Mr. Kurtz had painted this—in this very station more than a year ago—while waiting for means to go to his trading-post. 'Tell me, pray,' said I, 'who is this Mr. Kurtz?

Tale è la potenza disgregatrice di un uragano: essa isola l'individuo dai suoi simili. Un terremoto, una frana, una valanga soverchiano l'uomo incidentalmente, per così dire senza passione. La furia dell'uragano invece lo attacca come un nemico personale, cerca di afferrargli le membra, gli s'abbarbica alla mente, tenta di sradicare da lui perfino l'anima.

Not the faintest sound of any kind could be heard. You looked on amazed, and began to suspect yourself of being deaf—then the night came suddenly, and struck you blind as well.

I found myself back in the sepulchral city resenting the sight of people hurrying though the streets to filch a little money from each other, to devour their infamous cookery, to gulp their unwholesome beer, to dream their insignificant and silly dreams. They trespassed upon my thoughts. They were intruders whose knowledge of life was to me an irritating pretence, because I felt so sure they could not possibly know the things I knew.

No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one's existence,—that which makes its truth, its meaning—its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream—alone . . .

T]he tremendous fact of our isolation, of the loneliness impenetrable and transparent, elusive and everlasting; of the indestructible loneliness that surrounds, envelops, clothes every human soul from the cradle to the grave, and, perhaps, beyond.

feeling would not last long. Something would turn up to scare it away. Once, I remember, we came upon a man-of-war anchored off the coast. There wasn't even a shed there, and she was shelling the bush. It appears the French had one of their wars going on thereabouts. Her ensign dropped limp like a rag; the muzzles of the long eight-inch guns stuck out all over the low hull; the greasy, slimy swell swung

chief of the Inner Station,' he answered in a short tone, looking away. 'Much obliged,' I said, laughing. 'And you are the brickmaker of the Central Station. Everyone knows that.' He was silent for a while.

how can you imagine what particular region of the first ages a man's untrammelled feet may take him into by the way of solitude--utter solitude without a policeman--by the way of silence--utter silence, where no warning voice of a kind neighbour can be heard whispering of public opinion? These little things make all the great difference. When they are gone you must fall back upon your own innate strength, upon your own capacity for faithfulness

No, it's impossible. It's impossible to tell anyone what it feels like to be you. It's impossible. We live the same way that we dream—alone

The double row of berths yawned black, like graves tenanted by uneasy corpses.

The reaches opened before us and closed behind, as if the forest had stepped leisurely across the water to bar the way for our return. We penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness.

The solitude of the sea intensifies the thoughts and the facts of one's experience which seems to lie at the very centre of the world, as the ship which carries one always remains the centre figure of the round horizon.

No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one's existence—that which makes its truth, its meaning—its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream—alone.

AÈ™a cum se leg?nau pe pietrele albe, în mijlocul mulÈ›imii gr?bite È™i zgomotoase, p?reau niÈ™te fiinÈ›e dintr-o alt? specie - o specie pierdut?, singuratic?, lipsit? de memorie È™i osândit? s? piar?; niÈ™te naufragiaÈ›i, niÈ™te naufragiaÈ›i nes?buiÈ›i, veseli È™i nebuni, care petrec în toiul furtunii, pe muchea lunecoas? a unei stânci perfide.

Es imposible transmitir las sensaciones vitales de cualquier momento dado de nuestra existencia, las sensaciones que le confieren veracidad y significado, su esencia sutil y penetrante. Es imposible. Vivimos igual que soñamos: solos…