Quotes About Isolation

Whatever the reason, I felt dishearteningly alone in the city.

I sat alone, on a boulder that was larger and flatter than most, and I smoked a cigarette. I smoked in those days because, like everyone else in the world who smokes, I wanted to die at least as much as I wanted to live.

My heart broke on its shame and sorrow. I suddenly knew how much crying there was in me, and how little love. I knew, at last, how lonely I was.

The lines, high on her cheeks, were the dams she used to keep the tears in her eyes. Unspoken, unanswerable questions parted her full, red lips, whenever she was alone, or absorbed in her work.

Hunger exaggerated the cold. It was a long, hard winter, with snow falling on the mountains around us every other day.

Your heart starts to feel like an overcrowded lifeboat. You throw your pride out to keep it afloat, and your self-respect and your independence. After a while you start throwing people out—your friends, everyone you used to know. And it's still not enough. The lifeboat is still sinking, and you know it's going to take you down with it. I've seen that happen to a lot of girls here.

I knew what it was to feel utterly helpless.

I'd burned all the bridges that might've led me home.

It was the desolate terror of a man who knows that fate has abandoned him, and death's already inside, stretching and swelling and filling up the life-space that used to be his. It

Some loves are like that. Most loves are like that, from what I can see. Your heart starts to feel like an overcrowded lifeboat. You throw your pride out to keep it afloat, and your self-respect and your independence. After a while you start throwing people out - your friends, everyone you used to know. And it's still not enough. The lifeboat is still sinking, and you know it's going to take you down with it.

I was exiled from my family, homeland, and culture. I thought that was the whole of it. Years into the banishment, I realised that I was exiled to something, as well. What I escaped to was the lonely, reckless freedom of the outcast.

But I didn't know that then. I washed my hands in the cold, uncaring sea, and my conscience was as silent and remote as the mute, unreachable stars.

Every object was significant; in my hunted exile, the windowsill had become my home, and the talismans were my nation.

The world and I are not on speaking terms, Karla said to me once in those early months. The world keeps trying to win me back, she said, but it doesn't work. I guess I'm just not the forgiving type.

In the beginning we feared everything - animals, the weather, the trees, the night sky - everything except each other. Now we fear each other, and almost nothing else. No one knows why anyone does anything. No one tells the truth. No one is happy. No one is safe.

Feeling small and alone and lonely, I walked by memory and touch through the dark, lightless lanes of the slum.

It's the only condition I know. Bitter Love, Loneliness, contempt for corruption, blind hope. It's where I live. A permanent state of bereavement. This is nothing new.

There were people everywhere but no one was mine, and I was no one's.

He knew about being alone. The weather was always cold there.

at least i'm talkng to myself. instead of giving myself the cold shoulder

No, she wasn't losing language. She was choking on it.

Suicide was such a formative band for me, so influential in the development of my taste. They're one of those bands that operated in absolute isolation for so long that they developed a completely unique world view.

My dad had been in the second world war, had electric shock treatment, suffered from anxiety and was abusive to my mum. I kept a lid on my feelings at school but, when I was 18, dropped out of everything and couldn't even be bothered to get out of bed.

In elite gymnastics, I was surrounded by this bubble, that gymnastics was literally all I knew, and I'd like to know about worldly issues.