Quotes About Isolation

Without him, [Nate] she was completely alone in the world. There was no one at all for her. No one in the world who cared whether she lived or died. Sometimes the horror of that thought threatened to overwhelm her and plunge her down into bottomless darkness...

What about Isabelle?" Simon asked. "Where is she?" The humor, such as it was, left Jace's expression. "She won't come out of her room," he said. "She thinks that what happened to Max was her fault. She won't even come to the funeral." "Have you tried talking to her?" "No," Jace said, "we've been punching her repeatedly in the face instead. Why, do you think that won't work?" "Just thought I'd ask." Simon's tone was mild.

I'm here by choice, I reminded myself. I'm here because I can't bear to be not- here anymore. I'm here because I can't tell right from wrong, light from dark. I'm here because I can't stand being me. I'm here because I don't want anyone to know where I am.

I can't help who I am," I pointed out. "i mean, do you think I should just hide?" I tapped one finger against my chin. "Gee, if only there was some place , some safe place, like in the middle of freaking nowhere , where I could surround myself with strong immortals and maybe learn how to protect myself and...oh, wait!" I looked at Solis, my eyes wide with excitement. "Oh my God--that sounds like here ! It sounds like I'm already actually doing exactly what you thing I should be doing! Awesome!

Medical science had little to offer in the way of prevention or cure, apart from the process of disinfection, notification and isolation as recommended by Dr Niven. There was little consensus on treatment apart from the traditional recourse to bed rest, opiates and folk remedies, while to make matters worse, significant individuals refused to take the threat of Spanish flu seriously.

Eventually, the authorities realized that quarantine was the only way of containing the outbreak, and entire households were walled up.

I wonder if Eve could write letters in Paradise! But, poor Eve, she had no one to write to - no one to whom to tell what Eden was, no beloved child to whom her love traveled through any or all space. Poor Eve!

Sometimes it was lonely, living in silence.

Why are we camped so far from the others?" she asked, striving to keep her voice calm. A fire had leapt to life some distance away, and she could hear the faint sound of the others talking. "Your Aye-mee must not see," he replied in a clipped monotone. "See what?" she asked shakily. "The games we will play," he said softly.

Solitude, and misery, may be necessary for a certain kind of work. You have to feel it first and if you've felt it you can just write the thing without explaining anything about it.

this town has no soul. and nobody yields to your love. nobody yields, period.

What is it?' she cried at herself. 'What is the matter with me? Am I too becoming odd? Is this what spinsterhood does to one?'.....she made for the door her mind seemed to accept the fact that she was entering a new kind of world, the world of spinsterhood, and she saw it as something that had to be faced, lived with, endured. But with the handle of the door gripped in her hand, she looked down at it as she thought bitterly, What a waste of life!

down. She felt weak and slightly sick. But there wasn't a stick of furniture of any kind in the place. Hastily

but what he had learned over these past weeks was that people were entwined one with the other, and that you couldn't isolate yourself from them and say, 'I am going to be happy', because their emotions penetrated you and cast a shadow over your happiness, they tinged your love with sadness and fear until you were being forced to believe that sadness and fear were part of love.

She realized with a sort of depressed relief that she had no close friend to call, to tell them not to worry about her.

The silence of a convent at night is the silence of the grave. Too far removed from the busy world without for external sounds to penetrate the thick walls, whilst within no slamming door, nor wandering foot, nor sacrilegious voice breaks in upon the stillness, the slightest noise strikes upon the ear with a fearful distinctness. ("The Monk's Story")

Despair is deep. An abyss that swallows dreams. A wall at the world's end. Behind it I await death. Because all our work has come to this.

Despair is deep. An abyss that swallows dreams.

A distant, eerie howl had risen out of the floor, from far beneath. Silent, absolutely still, she waited, and at last it came again, indefinably closer, but muffled, as if layers of stone-rooms, dungeons, cellars-were between her and it. Not human. She crouched down with her ear to the stone slabs. Somewhere down there, unguessable levels below,something prowled.

No matter how I prayed, no fairy godmother appeared. No elf or leprechaun or world-weary wizard materialised to provide the secret weapon against my foe. I remained alone in a mouse-infested cell, empty but for a pallet and the nightdress into which I now had to struggle.

Peter hadn't been treated as a person, and so, eventually, he didn't experience himself as one.

even though it was beautiful and comfortable, and even though it was the world, it was also a little bit boring. No, wait. Maybe boring isn't the right word. What's the word I'm wanting here? Lonely. That's it. It was a little bit lonely.

See, this is why I was by myself all those years. Because as soon as you let people in, they start depending on you. And then, if you can't be everything they think you should be, you've let them down. It's easier not to have anybody around at all.

when you decide to be alone or have a family, you're pretty much choosing between feeling lonely or feeling aggravated.