Quotes About Isolation

In general, American social life constitutes an evasion of talking to people. Most Americans don't, in any vital sense, get together; they only do things together.

There was something special about being in a strange place, all alone in a mass of people even if you had just screwed up your life, or perhaps especially if you had just screwed up your life.

I've been so lonely for long periods of my life that if a rat walked in I would have welcomed it.

All we really want in life is to connect to other human beings, and when you desperately want to connect physically to one specific human being and you can't? That's something I find compelling.

I sort of get tired of myself sometimes. When you're busy, your life becomes relatively small. But I don't really get tired of talking to other people.

I think that reaching out to kids that feel really isolated is a life saving gesture that we have a responsibility as older queers to do.

There is a strange depression that hangs over every little town that is no longer in the mainstream of life.

Shut out from the world with its blare and glare, life in an institution moves softly. The ears become attuned to gentle notes and a subdued tone.

The imaginary audience for my life is growing small and silent.

The pure air and dazzling snow belong to things beyond the reach of all personal feeling, almost beyond the reach of life.

He always leaves us alone." This was true even in controversy. The April 17, 1949 show, Tennessee Williams's Summer and Smoke, touched off a storm of protest when it depicted a young girl turning to prostitution. "It was bad timing," Marshall conceded: it had been scheduled on Easter Sunday, and thereafter the fare on that day was confined to classics and comedies.

In high school, I could recognize extremes of emotion. I knew enough to run if a guy came yelling and screaming at me with a baseball bat. But a girl with a subtle expression on her face … was she smiling at me? Laughing? Quizzical and curious? I had no idea. That led to a lot of awkward interactions and years of loneliness.

child psychologists who said "John prefers to play by himself" were dead wrong. I played by myself because I was a failure at playing with others. I was alone as a result of my own limitations, and being alone was one of the bitterest disappointments of my young life.

believe that some kids who are in the middle to more high-functioning range of the autism continuum, like me, do not receive the proper stimulation and end up turning inward to such an extent that they can't function in society, even though they may be incredibly brilliant in some narrowly defined field, like abstract mathematics.

I believe that some kids who are in the middle to more high-functioning range of the autism continuum, like me, do not receive the proper stimulation and end up turning inward to such an extent that they can't function in society, even though they may be incredibly brilliant in some narrowly defined field, like abstract mathematics.

It was the first place where I was thrown together with children I didn't know. It didn't go well.

It was a bad one, the Winter of 1933. Wading home that night through flames of snow, my toes burning, my ears on fire, the snow swirling around me like a flock of angry nuns, I stopped dead in my tracks. The time had come to take stock. Fair weather or foul, certain forces in the world were at work trying to destroy me.

I looked at the faces around me and I knew mine was like theirs. Faces with the blood drained away, tight faces, worried, lost. Faces like flowers torn from their roots and stuffed into a pretty vase, the colours draining fast. I had to get away from that town.

Mi sedetti alla macchina da scrivere e dentro di me si fece il vuoto, un vuoto terribile.

Ask the dust on the road! Ask the Joshua trees standing alone where the Mojave begins. Ask them about Camilla Lopez, and they will whisper her name.

Ah, Evelyn and Vivian, I love you both, I love you for your sad lives, the empty misery of your coming home at dawn. You too are alone, but you are not like Arturo Bandini, who is neither fish, fowl nor good red herring. So have your champagne, because I love you both, and you too, Vivian, even if your mouth looks like it had been dug out with raw fingernails and your old child's eyes swim in blood written like mad sonnets.

My imagination makes me human and makes me a fool it gives me all the world and exiles me from it.

He'd just have to lie there and die, watched over by strange stars who didn't know him, didn't care for him. It was very sad, really.

Surrounded by followers, he was alone.