Quotes About Isolation

At first I wondered why the room felt so safe. Then I realized it was because there were no windows.

The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence. I knew perfectly well the cars were making a noise, and the people in them and behind the lit windows of the buildings were making a noise, and the river was making a noise, but I couldn't hear a thing. The city hung in my window, flat as a poster, glittering and blinking, but it might just as well not have been there at all, for all the good it did me.

El silencio me deprimió. No era el silencio del silencio. Era mi propio silencio. Sabía perfectamente que los coches hacían ruido, y que la gente que iba dentro o la que estaba detrás de las ventanas iluminadas de los edificios hacía ruido, y que el río hacía ruido, y sin embargo no podía escuchar nada.

Gri kadife koltuÄŸa yaslan?p gözlerimi kapad?m. S?rça fanusun havas? çevremi sarm??t?, k?m?ldayam?yordum.

Një ëndërr e keqe. Për njeriun që gjendet brenda këmbanës së qelqtë, i zbrazët dhe i bllokuar si një foshnjë e vdekur, vetë bota është një ëndërr e keqe.

I just sat there with the whole summer turning sour in my mouth.

because wherever I sat, on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok, I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air.

I am alone in my room, between two worlds

The reason I hadn't washed my clothes or my hair was because it seemed so silly. I saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next had suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue.

There's something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you're the only extra person in the room.

the city hung in my window, flat as a poster, glittering and blinking, but it might just as well not have been there at all, for the good it did me.

I felt surprisingly at peace. The bell jar hung, suspended, a few feet above my head. I was open to the circulating air.

Then he would lean back in his chair and match the tips of his fingers together in a little steeple and tell me why I couldn't sleep and why I couldn't read and why I couldn't eat and why everything everyone did seemed so silly, because they only died in the end.

If Mrs. Guinea had given me a ticket to Europe, or a round-the-world cruise, it wouldn't have made one scrap of difference to me, because whenever I sat--on the deck of a ship or at a street cafe in Paris or Bangkok-- I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air.

Girl, aging girl, is haunted by own nothingness & devours views from windows (stories, movies, overheard talk &sights in the street, pictures in newspapers, etc.) with continuous feeling she is 'just about', miraculously, to come into her own her own life

I thought I would swim out until I was too tired to swim back. As I paddled on, my heartbeat boomed like a dull motor in my ears. I am I am I am.

Wherever I sat—on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok—I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stweing in my own sour air.

And I thought of how my mother and brother and friends would visit me, day after day, hoping I would be better. Then their visits would slacken off, and they would give up hope. They would grow old. They would forget me... The more hopeless you were, the further away they hid you.

Po letech je potkávám na silnici - slova vyprahlá a bez jezdc?, neúnavný klapot kopyt. Zatímco ze dna t?nÄ› životu vládnou utkvÄ›lé hvÄ›zdy.

The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence. I knew perfectly well the cars were making a noise, and the people in them and behind the lit windows of the buildings were making a noise, and the river was making a noise, but I couldn't hear a thing. The city hung in my window, flat as a poster, glittering and blinking, but it might just as well not have been there at all, for the good it did me.

I didn't call you I didn't call you at all. Nevertheless, nevertheless You steamed to me over the sea

My drink was wet and depressing. Each time I took another sip it tasted more and more like dead water

Entonces Constantino y la intérprete rusa y todo aquel montón de hombres negros y blancos y amarillos discutiendo allá abajo detrás de sus micrófonos rotulados parecieron alejarse en la distancia. Vi sus bocas subir y bajar sin sonido, como si estuvieran sentados en la cubierta de un buque que partía, dejándome en medio de un enorme silencio.

El silencio me deprimía. No era realmente el silencio. Era mi propio silencio.