Quotes About Isolation

All is death, woman. All is pain. Love breeds loss. Isolation breeds resentment. No matter which way we turn, we are beaten. Our only true inheritance is death. And our only legacy, dust.

Funny that. We live in islands of Hours and we never seem to have time enough for anything...

They will all abandon you. All you have left is my desire for you.

This is a forsaken place...I can think of no use for a place like this, except that you could say of it: I saw the heart of nothing, and survived.

Outside, somewhere near, the world would soon be waking. He had watched it wake from the window of this very room, day after day, stirring itself to another round of fruitless pursuits, and he'd known, known, that there was nothing left out there to excite him.

He got to his feet and stumbled away from the stench of his vomit, making his way through this graveyard of old glories, heading for the darkest place he could find in which to hide his giddy head.

Isn't there anything you care about?" "All is death, woman. All is pain. Love breeds loss. Isolation breeds resentment. No matter which way we turn, we are beaten. Our only true inheritance is death. And our only legacy, dust.

If you were alone on earth, what would you know? What the mirror told you, that's all. The rest would be myth and conjecture.

Besides, he guessed she wouldn't have thanked him for delaying his purchase. She needed dope more than she needed him.

being with people makes me vomit. I don't like em. I never did.

radioman Schmidt says he's picking up a faint signal.

stranded Napoleon in Egypt, which

Rock concerts, baseball games, and even church gatherings would all be canceled in fear of sparking new outbreaks. Those who would venture out for food or medicine would only do so clad in rubber gloves and surgical masks. The economic impact to the country would be devastating. Wholesale industries would be forced to shut down overnight. Furloughed and laid-off workers would spike unemployment rates to double that of the Great Depression.

In homes and apartments, citizens would be forced to live like incarcerated prisoners, afraid to mingle with neighbors, friends, or even close relatives for fear of risking infection.

This Haida fisherman was in the john when his friends unknowingly left him behind. Please see that he gets to the dock before the fishing fleet departs. C. Cussler Chief Forman

If you dwell in the darkness, you can see in the dark and look into the light. But in choosing the darkness, you know you are destined to walk alone.

Siberia: it fills one twelfth of the land-mass of the whole Earth, yet this is all it leaves for certain in the mind. A bleak beauty, and an indelible fear.

Sometimes, you feel yourself weightless, thinned. You draw back the curtains (if there are any) on a rectangle of wasteland at dawn, and realise that you are cast adrift from everything that gave you identity. Thousands of miles from anyone who knows you, you have the illusion that your past is lighter, scarcely yours at all. Even your ties of love have been attenuated (the emergency satellite phone is in my rucksack and nobody calls). Dangerously, you may come to feel invulnerable.

The Outsider is he who cannot accept life as it is, who cannot consider his own existence or anyone else's necessary. He sees 'too deep and too much'.

Un tom?r j?s p?r?em d?vaina tukšuma saj?ta — lai ko j?s dar?tu, nekam nav noz?mes. Tieši tas noteikti ir divdesmit? gadsimta mor?l? bankrota c?lonis.

someone condemned to death says, or thinks an hour before his death, that if he had to live on a high rock, on such a narrow ledge that he'd only have room to stand, and the ocean, everlasting darkness, everlasting solitude, everlasting tempest around him, if he had to remain standing on a square yard of space all his life, a thousand years, eternity, it were better to live so than die at once. Only to live, to live and live. Life, whatever it may be...

The Outsider is he who cannot accept life as it is, who cannot consider his own existence or anyone else's necessary. He sees 'too deep and too much'. It is still a question of self-expression.

In The Secret Life we see the Outsider cut off from other people by an intelligence that ruthlessly destroys their values, and prevents him from self-expression through his inability to substitute new values. His problem is Ecclesiastes' 'Vanitatum vanitas'; nothing is worth doing.

For the Outsider, the world into which he has been born is always a world without values.. Unless he can evolve a set of values that will correspond to his own higher intensity of purpose, he may as well throw himself under a bus.