Quotes About Isolation

He talked to people and fooled them into liking him, trusting him. He talked to them while he was killing them, torturing and turning the knife. It was only when there was no one to talk to that he whistled, which was why he did so after a murder...

I waved. No one waved back

Nu mai erau oameni pe strad?. Erau zvonuri care c?rau gen?i.

Sono perseguitata dagli esseri umani.

THE LAST HUMAN STRANGER, PAGE 38 There were people everywhere on the city street, but the stranger could not have been more alone if it had been empty.

I still remember staying up all night to get it done, and I realize that's always the best time to finish a book. The sun is yet to come up. It seems the whole world is asleep, and there you are, on your own, with the pages set before you.

Everything was so desperately noisy in the dark when he was alone. Each time he moved, there was the sound of a crease. He felt like a man in a paper suit.

You will be caked in your own body.

The thought of missing it was eased when she found a gap in the bodies and was able to see the mound of guilt, still intact. It was prodded and splashed, even spat on. It reminded her of an unpopular child, forlorn and bewildered, powerless to alter its fate. No one liked it. Head down. Hands in pockets. Forever. Amen.

There's my ma, fifty-years old, hightailing around town with some guy while I sit here, in the prime of my youth, completely and utterly alone. I shake my head. At myself.

People who work alone know the beauty of solitude. The perhaps greater beauty of loneliness

The Gingerbread House sat sullenly in the downpour.

This is it, I thought. This is the part of us that makes our brief, improbable little lives worth living: the ability to reach through our own isolation and find strength, and comfort, and warmth for and in each other. This is what human beings do. This is what we live for, the way horses live to run.

It is a frightening thing to love someone you know the world rejects.

Depression is such a cruel punishment. There are no fevers, no rashes, no blood tests to send people scurrying in concern, just the slow erosion of self, as insidious as cancer. And like cancer, it is essentially a solitary experience; a room in hell with only your name on the door

In the middle of a night, hunched over my computer, with the rest of the house dark and quiet, I feel a certain moral superiority to the sleeping world.

Suffer from depression. That's right. It is suffering. A person does not just have depression. She suffers from it.

Just remember you're not alone here." I never know what to say to that. I am actually alone in my head, and that's where 90 plus percent of my problems are.

And in their corner all they had was Murderbot, who just wanted everyone to shut up and leave it alone so it could watch the entertainment feed all day.

They were all so nice and it was just excruciating. I was never taking off the helmet again. I can't do even the half-assed version of this stupid job if I have to talk to humans.

Or Miki was a bot who had never been abused or lied to or treated with anything but indulgent kindness. It really thought its humans were its friends, because that's how they treated it. I signaled Miki I would be withdrawing for one minute. I needed to have an emotion in private.

I wanted to just sink into my media downloads for a while and pretend I didn't exist.

My theory is - we don't really go that far into other people, even when we think we do. We hardly ever go in and bring them out. We just stand at the jaws of the cave, and strike a match, and quickly as if anybody's there.

So I am lonely, but not alone, like everybody else.