Quotes About Loneliness

from loneliness, from poverty, from oppression. We are all in need of some form of salvation. Indeed, the idea of salvation for most of the Scriptures of Israel is not about spiritual matters, but physical ones: the Passover, the setting of the Passion narrative, is about salvation from slavery. God hears our cries. And the stories remind us that people, still, cry out to be saved. Will our cries be heard by others? Will we hear the cries of others? Will God act? Will we?

Le invitaban a vino, tal vez deseaban oír sus quejas, sus lamentaciones, su odio. Pero no podían oirlo («porque tal vez nada de esto existe. Nada más que soladad o indiferencia, nada más que una corteza de hombre, triste caparazón»).

Alicia en el mundo del espejo", pensé, más de una vez, contemplándome en él, desnuda y desolada con un gran deseo de atravesar su superficie, que parecía gelatinosa. Tristísima imagen aquella -la mía-, de ojos asustados, que era, tal vez, la imagen misma de la soledad.

No me detendré jamás, mientras me quede vida —se decía, contemplando aquella vasta tierra despoblada y espantosamente solitaria—, hasta que ni un palmo de tierra quede oculta a mis ojos y hollada por mi pie.» «Sólo se sabía prisionero de aquel íntimo deseo, de aquel sueño, de aquella fiebre de la que nadie hacía partícipe. Pues esta sed era mayor que todas las sedes, y esta hambre, mayor que hambre alguna.

Depression is not madness, it's just depression, the loser version, the low-energy response to bad stuff that happens in your life. When you're depressed, you think you're the only one to have ever tasted this kind of hurt. And that lonely self-regard brings with it its own painful pleasure.

I am lonely, yet not everybody will do. I don't know why, some people fill the gaps and others emphasize my loneliness. In reality those who satisfy me are those who simply allow me to live with my ''idea of them.

The thought of people reading in the sun, on a beach, tempts me to recommend dark books, written in the shadow of loneliness, despair, and death. Let these revelers feel a chill as they loll on their towels.

Whatever one may do, one is always alone in the world. That is what he wishes to say. He is right. You may always explain: you never are understood.

Without a family, man, alone in the world, trembles with the cold.

Ho attraversato una grande estate, poi ho perso quella partita. Mi ha spezzato il cuore. Non mi sono mai sentito così solo sul campo o più deluso dal gioco.

Only boxers can understand the loneliness of tennis players - and yet boxers have their corner men and managers. Even a boxer's opponent provides a kind of companionship, someone he can grapple with and grunt at. In tennis you stand face-to-face with the enemy, trade blows with him, but never touch him or talk to him, or anyone else

it's almost easier being down and alone than when you re up and no one s there to share the view with you

Coming?" Dennis held his arm out for her, a patient smile in his voice. She peered up at him, but he was just a tall, blurry shadow. There was talk and laughter and music coming from inside the house. Above it the stars were in a black sky. That black, black sky. "You all right?" All those stars so far apart. None of them close. From far away they just looked it.

moartea a milioane de solda?i f?cea din fiecare b?rbat o marf? rar? pentru femeile singure.

Wolves mated for life. Where was he? Where was the echo to her howl, her mate? Was there no other lone wolf, searching the hills for her?

Desperate, lonely, cut off from the human community which in many cases has ceased to exist, under the sentence of violent death, wracked by desires for intimacy they do not know how to fulfil, at the same time tormented by the presence of women, men turn to logic.

I don't know how to act around anybody.

Now of all the bonds between homosexual friends, none was greater than that between friends who danced together. The friend you danced with, when you had no lover, was the most important person in your life; and for people who went without lovers for years, that was all they had.

Now, at this moment, in this soft green twilight, this soft green Sunday evening, when the heart of the world seemed to lie beating in the palm of his hand, he sat in that huge house upstairs terrified that he would never live.

It was all over: dead. He had no idea, where Frankie had gone. But what was worse, he was everywhere.

While his life was impeccable on the surface, he felt he was behind glass; moving through the world in a separate compartment, touching no one else.

He stopped visiting married friends. Married friends, he decided one evening after returning from a visit, depress me.

He's so lonely and such a gentleman. The old-fashioned kind, who would gladly fight a duel over you. He'll buy you a townhouse here, darling, and just fly up every month or so for some medical conference, take you to the best parties, and then fuck you to oblivion in the den afterward.

But Malone continued standing there, within the house of flesh, the Temple of Priapus, staring out at that sparkling snowfall. That was it. That was Malone - standing in the crush of voluptuous limbs, enthralled by the cold, lonely, deserted street.