Quotes About Isolation

The only place I am recognized all the time is in L.A. and otherwise, it's only about once a day. I feel pretty anonymous.

My characters are all "just people" - people you might know - and the things that happen are things that anybody might do if they lived on a freighter that spent most of its time in the Deep Dark.

It is better to be alone than unwelcome. - Eve

I felt so lonesome I most wished I was dead. The stars were shining, and the leaves rustled in the woods ever so mournful; and I heard an owl, away off, who-whooing about somebody that was dead, and a whippowill and a dog crying about somebody that was going to die;

It is a time when one's spirit is subdued and sad, one knows not why; when the past seems a storm-swept desolation, life a vanity and a burden, and the future but a way to death. It is a time when one is filled with vague longings; when one dreams of flight to peaceful islands in the remote solitudes of the sea, or folds his hands and says, What is the use of struggling, and toiling and worrying any more? let us give it all up.

I freighted a leaf with a mental message for the friends at home, and dropped it in the stream. But I put no stamp on it and it was held for postage somewhere.

When I got there it was all still and Sunday-like, and hot and sunshiny - the hands was gone to the fields; and there was them kind of faint dronings of bugs an flies in the air that makes it seem so lonesome and like everybody's dead and gone; and if a breeze fans along and quivers the leaves, it makes you feel mournful, because you feel like it's spirits whispering - spirits that's been dead ever so many years - and you always think they're talking about you.

I felt like the Last Man, neglected of the judgment, and left pinnacled in mid-heaven, a forgotten relic of a vanished world.

He is always poor, out of luck and friendless. The meanest creatures despise him, and even the fleas would desert him for a velocipede.

The waves most washed me off the raft sometimes

I set down in a chair by the window and tried to think of something cheerful, but it warn't no use. I felt so lonesome I most wished I was dead.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and today -- all without seeing him. It is a long time to be alone; still, it is better to be alone that unwelcome. I had to have company -- I was made for it, I think -- so I made friends with the animals.

But who shall tell how many ages it seemed to this prisoner?

If you think it ain't dismal and lonesome out in a fog that way, by yourself, in the night, you try it once – you'll see.

We all know about Father Damien, the French priest who voluntarily forsook the world and went to the leper island of Molokai to labor among its population of sorrowful exiles who wait there, in slow-consuming misery, for death to come and release them from their troubles;

Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?" "Most always—most always. He ain't

Sometimes I feel like the sane person in a community of the mad; sometimes I feel like the one blind man where all others see; the one groping savage in the college of the learned, and always, during service, I feel like a heretic in heaven.

He presently grew lonesome, and started out for recreation. He ranged the whole boat—visited every part of it, with an advance guard of fleeing people in front of him and a voiceless vacancy behind him; and when his owner captured him at last, those two were the only visible beings anywhere; everybody else was in hiding, and the boat was a solitude.

It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island

Island under French control—which means a community which depends upon quarantines, not sanitation, for its health.

IT IS TRUE, THAT WHICH I HAVE REVEALED TO YOU; THERE IS NO GOD, NO UNIVERSE, NO HUMAN RACE, NO EARTHLY LIFE, NO HEAVEN, NO HELL. IT IS ALL A DREAM—A GROTESQUE AND FOOLISH DREAM. NOTHING EXISTS BUT YOU. AND YOU ARE BUT A THOUGHT—A VAGRANT THOUGHT, A USELESS THOUGHT, A HOMELESS THOUGHT, WANDERING FORLORN AMONG THE EMPTY ETERNITIES!

It's the feeling that one is a cog in a machine that doesn't care. Burnout makes people angry, depressed, and unable to do or enjoy doing the work of patient care. Burnout is loneliness, isolation, and an invitation to addiction, alcoholism, and other forms of self-harm.

I think that's what finally stopped me. I slid right to the edge. My legs were hanging over. And I could feel it too. I don't know how. There was no wind, no sound, no change of temperature. There was just this terrible emptiness reaching up for me.

My dear girl, is it that you are so lonely that you had to create this?