Quotes About Isolation

No, you also matter. A lot." As tears came to her eyes, she ducked her head and blinked fast. That was what had been missing from her relationship with Gerry at the end, she realized: She had not mattered any longer to him, and since his death? She hadn't mattered to anybody—including herself. If you were loved, if you had people who cared about you, you could be by yourself and never feel alone. But if no one cared? You were isolated even in a crowd.

Staring down at the churning crowd from his second-floor office, he watched them through the kind of one-way glass that psychologists used to monitor the interviews of insane people. And this made sense. The men and women below, stimulated and stimulating each other, were not on the normal bandwidth, and that was why they came to his establishment.

he was ever alone now, set apart from those around him, separated by a divide he could see across but never cover. To be without family was a strange, unseeable prison, the bars of loneliness and rootlessness enclosing ever more tightly as years and experience accumulated, isolating a male such that he touched naught and naught touched him. Darius

Loneliness was just like winter, he decided. Cold and pervasive, trapping you inside your own head because what was outside was so inhospitable.

The thing was, they had something in common, something that crossed species lines and eclipsed social stratifications and bonded them together even though she would have denied it. She was lonely, too, and in the same way he was.

I'd rather be alone." She pivoted around again. "I'm getting tired of crying in front of an audience.

I've purposely set up my life to be alone so I won't get hurt.

The Abandoned Valley Can you understand being alone so long you would go out in the middle of the night and put a bucket into the well so you could feel something down there tug at the other end of the rope?

No deeper loneliness than the Samurai's. None but the tiger's in the jungle perhaps. He

No deeper loneliness than the Samurai's. None but the tiger's in the jungle perhaps.

Don't touch me, I'm full of snakes.

As far as I'm concerned the only thing to do is sit in a room and get drunk

most of the time we were alone and mixing up our souls ever more and ever more till it would be terribly hard to say good-by.

Down in Denver, all I did was die.

I could hear everything, together with the hum of my hotel neon. I never felt sadder in my life. LA is the loneliest and most brutal of American cities; New York gets godawful cold in the winter but there's a feeling of wacky comradeship somewhere in some streets. LA is a jungle.

America is a lonely crock of shit...

Last night I walked clear down to Times Square & just as I arrived I suddenly realized I was a ghost - it was my ghost walking on the sidewalk.

In all this welter of women I still hadn't got one for myself, not that I was trying too hard, but sometimes I felt lonely to see everybody paired off and having a good time and all I did was curl up in my sleeping bag in the rosebushes and sigh and say bah. For me it was just red wine in my mouth and a pile of firewood

How clear the realization one is going mad -- the mind has a silence, nothing happens in the physique, urine gathers in your loins, your ribs contract.

A poet is a blind optimist. The world is against him for many reasons. But the poet persists. He believes that he is on the right track, no matter what any of his fellow men say. In his eternal search for truth, the poet is alone. He tries to be timeless in a society built on time.

I feel impossibly sad and like I'll die, what can we do?

We are sealed in our own little melancholy atmospheres, like planets, and revolving around the sun, our common but distant desire.

And suddenly, not a soul's at the store as for other & similar & just as blank reasons, they've gone to the silence, the suppers of their own mystery.

Lonely as America, a throatpierced sound in the night.