Quotes About Isolation

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

Fancy was a liar. She had been with Aunt Fanny and dared not admit to running away. She had not been frightened, but she enjoyed teasing people weaker than herself. Not a servant, or an animal, or any child in the village near the house, would willingly go near her.

felt steamy and sticky and chilled through, and home seemed so far away that perhaps it did not exist at all.

She had done so much to preserve herself from this kind of captivity and had taken inevitably one of the many roads which would lead her to the same torment; she was helpless among people who hated her and showed it by holding her motionless until they should choose to release her.

Shirley Jackson

Me imagino que el pueblo estaba lleno de corazones podridos que codiciaban nuestras pilas de monedas de oro, pero eran cobardes y temían a los Blackwood.

Era una sconosciuta in un mondo di sconosciuti ed erano sconosciuti anche quelli che si era lasciata alle spalle.

You've no idea the messages I've gotten from nuns walled up alive.

Within, walls continued upright, bricks met nearly, 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

Everything is thrown into relief, lit in a Hopperesque late-afternoon glow, the one-sided illumination both revealing and casting a long shadow.

My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides , the death-cap mushroom. Everyone else in my family is dead.

I have neither friends nor relatives, thank goodness. I'm as lonely as a stone.

In the end, each of us is alone, but in the meantime, we must all huddle together to give one another comfort and warmth.

There was no one to see her off, no one for her to care about, no one who cared about her. That's not true, Tracy told herself.

There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.

It's just easier not to be noticed. That way people don't expect things from you. There's no pressure, nothing to fear.

Loneliness and darkness have just robbed me of my valuables.

When a love-relationship is at its height there is no room left for any interest in the environment; a pair of lovers are sufficient to themselves

Crawley, in language differing only slightly from current psychoanalytic terminology, Crawley declared that each individual is separated from others by a taboo of personal isolation... a narcissism of minor differences.

In language differing only slightly from current psychoanalytic terminology, Crawley declared that each individual is separated from others by a taboo of personal isolation... a narcissism of minor differences.

Dying is a role we play like any other role in life: this is a troubling thought. You are never your true self except when you're alone—but who wants to be alone, dying?

To draw me out, the therapist asks what I did for the holidays. When I tell him he says gently (he says everything gently), Sounds like that's one of the ways your loss has affected you: not wanting to be with other people. Hating to be with other people, I don't say. Terrified of being with other people.

Sounds like that's one of the ways your loss has affected you: not wanting to be with other people.

And just because there are other people who've lost someone to suicide doesn't mean that what I'm feeling is something that can be shared.