Quotes About Isolation

I never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude.

In an era where the word communication reigns, where an unlimited mass of information can be accessed within a few seconds, we complain about having lost contact with our body and with other human beings. We suffer from extreme solitude, we suffer from no longer touching each other, we suffer from the "virtualization" of our feelings, the expression of our emotions, and our sensorality.

Belonging to groups often generates a kind of narcosis that gives us the illusion of sharing something missing from all the members of the group as individuals: completeness. Our main fear—fear of dissolution, of being nothing—keeps us from realizing that when we think we are one particular thing, and therefore isolated, we indeed become only that thing and lose the rest.

When I sat on a camp stool in the garden in a black coat with a black flap hat I felt like a marble guest who had returned from times long past into a strange world.

Réduits a nous-mêmes, nous nous réduisons à rien.

On hashish, he saw the elaborate furnishings of the nineteenth-century bourgeois interior concentrating "to satanic contentment, satanic knowing, satanic calm . . . To live in these interiors was to have woven a dense fabric about oneself, to have secluded oneself within a spider's web, in whose toils world events hang loosely suspended like so many insect bodies sucked dry.

We are all wedded to our stories. It doesn't mean we are each hermetically sealed in our own little worlds, impervious to the influence of others. It does mean the only way to avoid such isolation is to listen, compassionately, to the stories of others.

You're a good man," Fang said. "You're the last good man in this whole town. All the good that could be squeezed out of this forsaken place was used to make you. That's why you're so small, my friend: there just wasn't that much left." Fang laughed. "and that's why you can see us, you know, and nobody else can. You see everybody, even that lumberjack.

Being alone was lonely, but there was an even greater loneliness sometimes when he was surrounded by a lot of other people who were constantly making demands of him. He needed a break. C

At eight years old, I already felt the imbalance of a world that never wanted me to forget that I had nothing.

People do strange things sometimes, when they feel hopeless.

Veliko vam hvala, gospo?o, idem da potražim ku?u u kojoj sam živeo. Ne, hvala vam, više bih voleo da budem sam.

When I was living on the street I would be standing out in front of Grauman's Chinese Theater, leaning against my car and signing autographs and nobody had any idea that I was living in it.

I don't know. I think it's funny! I think it's funny! I go, what? It's so absurd. I'm alone.

Sometimes, solitude is worse than hunger.

He nurtured silence so long That emptiness took hold of him. The man became a dry branch That cracked in the cold.

She looked at the people around her and felt not just that she was surrounded by strangers, but that she herself was strange, somehow, that something kept her from ever fully bridging the gap between who she was and who all these other people, making their way through the very same day, were.

No, solitude did not trouble her. She could spend long minutes gazing out the window, hours listening to the BBC on the public radio station. She relished the very texture of her privacy, its depth of space and freedom, much of an entire day hers alone.

she immediately became the person they believed her to be: a peculiar, impatient girl, attractive enough yet too old and odd for the village boys who had once been her friends.

Being high felt as if half of me was wandering lost in the streets and half of me was calling out, hoping that I'd make it back before someone took advantage.

Trapped within the confines of his mind, he is too aware of every thought passing through it, as if he were outside, looking in. At night he often lies awake ruminating endlessly about what's wrong with him, about death, and about the meaning of existence itself. At times his arms and legs feel like they don't belong with his body. But most of the time, his mind feels like it is operating apart from the body that contains it.

And I will write this down / And then I will not be alone again

It was nine French fries because I counted. Was it a lie that Aja said he ate ten French fries? Did a small lie like that matter? Bree didn't look at me or talk to me again all day. The Earth sun was not shining inside me. It was as dark as midnight in there. That evening, I was surprised Bree still came over to talk about the party. She frowned and said, "Well, we still have to figure out the food." Mom and Dad were in the study working on the loud-soft problem. The

The Opera was a very cold film, a hopeless and dark film, no hope, no love.