Quotes About Loneliness

You're not dead but you're not alive. You're a wintergirl.

I drift into the armpits of strangers, tasting their manic salt, and sleep to forget everything.

I knew I wouldn't get an invitation. I would be lucky to get an invitation to my own funeral, with my reputation.

I hide in the bathroom until I know Heather's bus has left. The salt in my tears feels good when it stings my lips. I wash my face in the sink until there is nothing left of it, no eyes, no nose, no mouth. A slick nothing.

I am clanless. I wasted the last weeks of August watching bad cartoons. I didn't go to the mall, the lake, or the pool, or answer the phone. I have entered high school with the wrong hair, the wrong clothes, the wrong attitude. And I don't have anyone to sit with. I am Outcast.

You're not dead, but you're not alive either. You're a wintergirl, Lia-Lia

We turned us into wintergirls, and when she tried to leave, I pulled her back into the snow because I was afraid to be alone

Life has ill-prepared me for finding any enjoyment in a press of merrymakers.

The night air moved up towards the Downs, washing over sea and orchard. I breathed it in, and thought that henceforth, loneliness would smell to me like fermenting apples.

Isolate her, and however abundant the food or favourable the temperature, she will expire in a few days not of hunger or cold, but of loneliness.

Is that what I am? I don't know what the hell I am anymore. Oh, bullshit. You're a guy, a human being. Just another poor son of a bitch who doesn't want to be alone when the sacred ginmill closes.

And so we've had another night Of poetry and poses And each man knows he'll be alone When the sacred ginmill closes. —DAVE VAN RONK

the desire to be near the beloved object is at first not due to the idea of possessing it, but simply to let the two experiences compare themselves, like reflections in different mirrors... For from here love degenerates into habit, possession, and back to loneliness.

Youth is the age of despairs.

She gave me the impression of someone engaged in giving a series of savage caricatures of herself — but this is common to most lonely people who feel that their true self can find no correspondence in another.

For years one has to put up with the feeling that people do not care, really care, about one; then one day with growing alarm, one realizes that it is God who does not care; and not merely that he does not care, he does not care one way or the other.

He sits all day on the terrace of the Brokers' Club watching women pass, with the restless eye of someone endlessly shuffling through an old soiled pack of cards.

How do you spell love in Alexandria?' he said at last, softly. 'That is the question. Sleeplessness, loneliness, bonheur, chagrin -- I do not want to harm or annoy her, but I feel that somehow, somewhere, she must need me as I need her.

As lonely and sad as I am today, your return will cause a new birth in me.

The truth is, I feel beyond sad. I feel empty. Numb.

Deep in earth my love is lying And I must weep alone.

Travel is in sad case. It is uncomfortable, it is expensive; it is a source of annoyance to our friends, and of loneliness to ourselves.

My marriage didn't make me sad, but it didn't make me happy either. My husband and I hardly spoke to each other. This wasn't because we were angry. We had nothing to say. I was dying of boredom.

I survive at the edge of friends circles.