Quotes About Isolation

There is something demoralising about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in that room

I'll call you. Take care. And he was gone. So the rain comes down hard outside my room, and like Eddie Cohen, I say, ... fifteen thousand years - - - of what? We're still nothing but animals.

I would find the words to tell him how I was so scared, as if I were being stuffed farther and farther into a black, airless sack with no way out.

Hastanenin arazisi yeni yaÄŸm?? karla örtülüydü -bu bir Noel serpintisi deÄŸil, ocak ay?n?n adam boyu kar?yd?, okullar?, iÅŸ yerlerini, kiliseleri kapatt?r?p bir gün boyunca ya da daha uzun süreyle not ve randevu defterlerinin, masa takvimlerinin üstünde bomboÅŸ, tertemiz bir sayfa b?rakan türden bir kar.

A wi?c teraz b?d? rozmawia? ka?dej nocy. Z sob? sam?. Z ksi??ycem. B?d? chodzi?, tak jak dzi?, zazdro?nie strzeg?c swojej samotno?ci, w niebieskosrebrnej po?wiacie zimnego ksi??yca, migocz?cej cudownie na zaspach ?wie?ego ?niegu miriad? iskierek.

By?o mi oboj?tnie i bardzo pusto - tak musi by? w oku cyklonu. Absolutna cisza w samym ?rodku szalej?cego ?ywio?u.

His face, with its exaggerated shadows and planes of light, looked alien and pained, like a refugee's.

conversing, in low tones, with the asylum librarian, an alumna

What do you do? I asked the man, to break the silence shooting up around me on all sides, thick as jungle grass

My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently. They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep. Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage— My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox, My husband and child smiling out of the family photo; Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.

Nobody watched me before, now I am watched. The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins, And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips, And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself. The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

Oriunde m-aÈ™ fi alfat (...) aÈ™ fi stat sub acelaÈ™i clopot de sticl?, fierbând în propriul meu aer st?tut.

felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.

Cuanto más incurable se vuelve, más lejos lo esconden a uno.

I saw the years of my life spaced along a road in the form of telephone poles, threaded together by wires. I counted one, two, three . . . nineteen telephone poles, and then the wires dangled into space, and try as

We'll take up where we left off, Esther', she had said, with her sweet martyr's smile. 'We'll act as if all this were a bad dream.' A bad dream. To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream. A bad dream. I remembered everything. ... Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were a part of me. They were my landscape.

I decided not to go down to the cafeteria for breakfast. It would only mean getting dressed, and what was the point of getting dressed if you were staying in bed for the morning?

Mr. Manzi stood at the bottom of the big, rickety old amphitheater, making blue flames and red flares and clouds of yellow stuff by pouring the contents of one test tube into another, and I shut his voice out of my ears by pretending it was only a mosquito in the distance and sat back enjoying the bright lights and the colored fires and wrote page after page of villanelles and sonnets.

At about this point I began to feel peculiar. I looked round me at all the rows of rapt little heads with the same silver glow on them at the front and the same black shadow on them at the back, and they looked nothing more or less than a lot of stupid moonbrains.

After each wave it would fade away and leave me limp as a wet leaf and shivering all over and then I would feel it rising up in me again, and the glittering white torture-chamber tiles under my feet and over my head and on all four sides closed in and squeezed me to pieces.

Para a pessoa dentro da redoma de vidro, vazia e imóvel como um bebê morto, o mundo inteiro é um sonho ruim.

See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life

It didn't seem to be summer any more. I could feel the winter shaking my bones and banging my teeth together, and the big white hotel towel I had dragged down with me lay under my head numb as a snowdrift.

I had never met a woman-hater before. I could tell Marco was a woman-hater, because in spite of all the models and TV starlets in the room that night he paid attention to nobody but me. Not out of kindness or even curiosity, but because I'd happened to be dealt to him, like a playing card in a pack of identical cards.