Quotes About Belonging

The Jew does not wish to be isolated. He fears being alone, without allies.

You are not alone in the world. You are part of an ensemble.

Just know you're not alone, 'cause I'm gonna make this place your home.

Christmas lights may be the loneliest thing for me, especially if you mix them up with reindeers and sleighs. I feel alone. I feel isolated. I feel I do not belong.

We're all outsiders in a way. We're all alone and can become very lonely

Thank goodness for all the things you are not, thank goodness you're not something someone forgot, and left all alone in some punkerish place, like a rusty tin coat hanger hanging in space.

You are not alone. You are seen. I am with you. You are not alone.

Connecting with others is rewarding; it makes us feel like we're not alone in the world.

What is private belongs to me alone. What is personal belongs to all of us through the shared experience of being human.

All of a sudden I didn't fit in anywhere. Not at school, not at home...and every time I turned around, another person I'd known forever felt like a stranger to me. Even I felt like a stranger to me.

After a certain age, you felt a need not to be alone. It grew stronger, like a radio frequency, until finally it was so powerful that you were forced to do something about it.

He didn't want Lucy to grow up feeling alone, surrounded by everything and having nothing.

The only place you belong is the place you can never go back. And so yer always alone, forever and always.

Lotus Eaters is a movie about people who can't really be alone, but they're always alone, really, even when they're together.

and sadness clung to mebecause she did not knowhow to be alone.

I have been a stranger here in my own land: All my life

If I have friends how come I always feel alone?

And yet love obstinately answers that no loved one is standardized. A body, love insists, is neither a spirit nor a machine; it is not a picture, a diagram, a chart, a graph, an anatomy; it is not an explanation; it is not a law. It is precisely and uniquely what it is. It belongs to the world of love, which is a world of living creatures, natural orders and cycles, many small, fragile lights in the dark.

I don't remember when I did not know Port William, the town and the neighborhood. My relation to that place, my being in it and my absences from it, is the story of my life. That story has surprised me almost every day—but now, in the year 1986, so near the end, it seems not surprising at all but only a little strange, as if it all has happened to somebody I don't yet quite know. Certainly, all of it has happened to somebody younger.

And yet in Port William, as everywhere else, it was already the second decade of the twentieth century. And in some of the people of the town and the community surrounding it, one of the characteristic diseases of the twentieth century was making its way: the suspicion that they would be greatly improved if they were someplace else.

The life of membership with all its cumbers is traded away for the life of employment that makes itself free by forgetting you clean as a whistle when you are not of any more use.

To feel at home in a place, you have to have some prospect of staying there.

Everything there seemed to belong where it was. That was why I went there.

A creature is not a creator, and cannot be. There is only one Creation, and we are its members.