Quotes About Loneliness

Maybe tonight, maybe tonight by the fire all alone you and I. Nothing around but the sound of heart and your sighs.

The romantic artist, off alone in his storm-battered castle, fuming whole worlds from his brain, reflects his culture's most persistent myth, of God creating from a primal loneliness.

New York was not a romantic city at [80th]. Nobody knows who you are and you don't have to care about anybody else. It's a very cold city, I should say.

mnY reason of b"kup, but it hurts moRe when you don"t know evN a single-1.

I'm shining like fireworks over your sad, empty town

Sometimes I get a little sad, and I feel like being alone. Then I talk to my cat about it, and he reminds me I'm James Franco. Then we dance.

She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars.

You see I usually find myself among strangers because I drift here and there trying to forget the sad things that happened to me.

I was always sad as a child, for as long as I can think back. I hated crowds of people, and used to sit in a corner by myself, just thinking.

Yes, I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness, sad as an eagle without wings, sad as a violin with only one string and that one broken, sad as a woman who is growing old. Sad, sad, sad.

One may have a blazing hearth in one's soul, and yet no one ever comes to sit by it.

I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness.

It was sad and fierce all at once, alive with a lonely purity.

Sotto le nuvole bianche, cade la neve. Non si vedono né le nuvole, né la neve. Né il gelo, né lo splendore candido della terra. Un omino solo scivola sopra i suoi sci e va. La neve cade. Cade fino a che l'omino scompare tornando nella sua opacità. Il mio amico Serge, un amico di tanti e tanti anni, ha comprato un quadro. E' una tela di circa un metro e sessanta per uno e venti. Raffigura un uomo che attraversa lo spazio e poi scompare.

A poetess who had died young of cancer had said in one of her poems that for her, on sleepless nights, 'the night offers toads and black dogs and corpses of the drowned.

The road was frozen. The village lay quiet under the cold sky. Komako hitched up the skirt of her kimono and tucked it into her obi. The moon shone like a blade frozen in blue ice.

Man is a foolish creature who wants above all to have someone else know about him.

My love turns me like a salt sea, it seems, Into sweet drops of autumn's first rain. I'm brought to you slowly as I fall. Take me in. For us there's no angel who will come to redeem. For we are together. Each of us alone.

As the years go by, my life keeps filling up with names like abandoned cemeteries or like an empty history class or a telephone book in a foreign city. And death is when someone behind you keeps calling and calling and you no longer turn around to see who.

The moon hangs alien, heavy, like a lock on a door; the door is tightly shut. ("The North")

Without her the sun of tomorrow will be merely a tin circle, and the sky, tin painted blue, and I myself.

Haven't written here in several days, I don't know how many: All the days seem like one. All the days have one color—yellow, like parched, fiery sand. And there isn't a shred of shade, nor a drop of water, and no end of the yellow sand.

Picture this: a human finger, cut off from its body, its hand...a separate human finger, running hopping along, all hunched over, on a glass sidewalk. I am that finger.

I walked alone through the twilit street. The wind was whirling, driving, carrying me like a slip of paper. Fragments of cast-iron sky flew and flew-they had another day, two days to hurtle through infinity… The unifs of passersby brushed against me, but I walked alone. I saw it clearly: everyone was saved, but there was no salvation for me. I did not want salvation …"(c)