Quotes About Isolation

Do you know, Watson, said he, that it is one of the curses of a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there.

Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen nature.

I had no friends who would call upon me and break the monotony of my daily existence.

The sight of a friendly face in the great wilderness of London is a pleasant thing indeed to a lonely man.

I found myself regarding him as an isolated phenomenon, a brain without a heart, as deficient in human sympathy as he was pre-eminent in intelligence.

will, we hope, be incapable. There only remains Mrs. Toller, who might give the alarm. If you could send her into the cellar on some errand, and then turn the key upon her, you would facilitate matters immensely." "I

A fortnight went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts turning in her direction and wondering what strange side-alley of human experience this lonely woman had strayed into.

Some friend of yours, perhaps? Except yourself I have none, he answered. I do not encourage visitors.

It's not fair to show someone the sun and then to banish him from it. Even the devil may cry when he looks around hell and realizes that he's there alone.

Seth envied them that freedom as his naked body hung lankly from the ceiling, with his hands shackled over his head. He'd been in this position for so long that his wrist bones protruded through the open cuts the manacles had worn through his flesh. He was sure it had to hurt, but that pain blended in nicely with all the others so that he couldn't tell where one ache began and another throb ended. Who knew torture could have benefits?

And now you know why I love no one. Why I never have and never will. Heed my words well. Love only destroys.

She realized he was rarely touched, except in anger.

Lost in his own world half the time, and tormented by devils the other half. Sometimes he's so far gone he doesn't recognize his own name.

As I stand there in the immaculate evening I do not find it strange to be fighting an entire town, a whole county. I am alone, yes, of course I am, but I am not particularly afraid. The house was empty and lonely before—I just did not realize it—it's no worse now. I know that I shall hurt as much as I have been hurt. I shall destroy as much as I have lost.

Gossip says she hanged herself from the turret on the tower, but when you have a house like Hill House with a tower and a turret, gossip would hardly allow you to hang yourself anywhere else.

She could not remember ever being truly happy in her adult life; her years with her mother had been built up devotedly around small guilts and small reproaches, constant weariness, and unending despair. Without ever wanting to become reserved and shy, she had spent so long alone, with no one to love, that it was difficult for her to talk, even casually, to another person without self-consciousness and an awkward inability to find words.

Hill House, she thought, You're as hard to get into as heaven.

Silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.

We couldn't even hear you, in the night.... No one could. No one lives any nearer than town. No one else will come any nearer than that. I know, Eleanor said tiredly. In the night, Mrs. Dudley said, and smiled outright. In the dark, she said..

Hill House,not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it has stood for eighty years and might stand eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.

very lonely and, often, very unhappy, with the poignant misery that comes to lonely people who long to be social and cannot, somehow, step naturally and unselfconsciously into some friendly group

I am living on the moon, I told myself, I have a little house all by myself on the moon.

This house, which seemed somehow to have formed itself, flying together into its own powerful pattern under the hands of its builders, fitting itself into its own construction of lines and angles, reared its great head back against the sky without concession to humanity. It was a house without kindness, never meant to be lived in, not a fit place for people or for love or for hope.

She turned her car onto the last stretch of straight drive leading her directly, face to face, to Hill House and, moving without thought, pressed her foot on the brake to stall the car and sat, staring. The house was vile. She shivered and thought, the words coming freely into her mind, Hill House is vile, it is diseased; get away from here at once.