Quotes About Loneliness

there was a quality of loneliness to her that comes when your only friend walks away and you don't know why and there's no one else and never will be. A left-behind look.

How can I die alone.Where will I be then who am now alone,what groans so patheticallyin this room where I am alone?

You've left a lot out Being in doubt you left it out Your mother Aunt Bernice in Nokomis to the west and south (?) in trailer park Dead now for years as one says You've left them out David your son Your friend John You've left them out You thought you were writing about what you felt You've left it out Your love your life your home your wife You've left her out No one is one No one's alone No world's that small No life You left it out

Moon, moon, when you leave me alone all the darkness is an utter blackness, a pit of fear, a stench, hands unreasonable never to touch. But I love you. Do you love me. What to say when you see me.

June recalls as a child being raised in a loveless home: "I remember climbing up on the stool in the morning to get the cereal down from the cupboard. And when I took a bath, I took it alone. I didn't have rubber duckies or anything like that to play with. My grandmother would leave me and come back thirty minutes later to see me shivering in the cold water.

and those poor souls who were lonely and just wanted to talk.

She didn't have much choice. There wasn't anyone to comfort her, and so she'd never learned how to be comforted. She was trying.

I'm just telling you that if you go and live alone on an island you won't find any answers. You'll just find yourself alone. Don't go to that island.

Why is this happening? Perhaps as you climb into bed alone, you find yourself longing for a warm body or the sense of security of sharing a bed, a home. What you might not have realized, especially in the immediate emotional aftermath of divorce, is that these seemingly conflicting emotions really are connected. They all are a part of your grief.

Arus the watchman grasped his crossbow with shaky hands, and he felt beads of clammy perspiration on his skin as he stared at the unlovely corpse sprawling on the polished floor before him. It is not pleasant to come upon Death in a lonely place at midnight.

It's the loneliest feeling in the world-to find yourself standing up when everybody else is sitting down. To have everybody look at you and say, 'What's the matter with him?' I know. I know what it feels like. Walking down an empty street, listening to the sound of your own footsteps. Shutters closed, blinds drawn, doors locked against you. And you aren't sure whether you're walking toward something, or if you're just walking away.

The world is a bitter thing For a dreaming heart to bear alone.

My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse near.

Hell is a half-filled auditorium.

Many lonely people, Strike knew, found it pleasant to be the focus of somebody's undivided attention and sought to prolong the novel experience.

It was four in the morning, the hopeless hour when shivering insomniacs inhabit a world of hollow shadow, and existence seems frail and strange.

The roses, which were for Joan, were also for him: they said, you won't be alone, you have something you've built, and all right, it might not be a family, but there are still people who care about you waiting in London. Strike told himself 'people,' because there were five names on the card, but he turned away thinking only of Robin.

He was well aware that he hadn't told Polworth the whole truth about his relationship with Robin Ellacott, which, after all, was nobody else's business. The truth was that his feelings contained nuances and complications that he preferred not to examine. For instance, he had a tendency, when alone, bored, or low-spirited, to want to hear her voice.

Robin was thinking, is this where single people end up, people without children to look out for them, without double incomes? In small boxes, living vicariously through reality stars?

The silence had that slack quality that speaks only of the indifference of uninhabited rooms, and his footsteps sounded alien and overloud as he made his way down the hall.

She now understood the potencial for loneliness that came with a single, driving passion

The silence had that slack quality that speaks only of the indifference of uninhabited rooms,

He was alone now, and at a kind of peace. None of the affairs or one-night stands he'd had since Charlotte had touched the essential part of him. He'd sometimes wondered since whether Charlotte had not stunted his ability to feel deeply.

she now understood the potential for loneliness that came with a single, driving passion.