Quotes About Loneliness

Behind him the lights of the lonely little store blinked out and there was only a street light shimmering on the corner, and the whole city seemed to be going to sleep.

Now, sucking all the night into his open mouth and blowing it out pale, with all the blackness left heavily inside himself...

Sentì il sorriso abbandonare la sua faccia, fondersi o ripiegare su se stesso come cera di una candela fantastica che era bruciata troppo a lungo e ora collassava, spenta. Buio, infelicità. Non era un uomo felice, ripeté tra sé. Riconobbe che era questa la verità, indossava la contentezza come una maschera ma adesso la ragazza era scappata, portandola con sé. Non c'era modo di bussare alla sua porta e chiedere che gliela restituisse. Senza

Somos demasiados –pensó–. Somos millardos, y eso es demasiado. Nadie conoce a nadie. Gente extraña se te mete en casa. Gente extraña te arranca el corazón.

This child can't be allowed to have normal playmates; why, they'd pester it to death in no time.

The Murderer

Mildred'?n yüzü, üstüne yaÄŸmur yaÄŸabilecek ama yaÄŸmuru hissetmeyen, karla kapl? bir ada gibiydi; bulutlar hareketli gölgelerini onun üstünden geçirebilirdi ama o gölgeleri hissetmiyordu.

He felt her there, he saw her without opening his eyes, her hair burnt by chemicals to a brittle straw, her eyes with a kind of cataract unseen but suspect far behind the pupils, the reddened pouting lips, the body as thin as a praying mantis from dieting, and her flesh like white bacon.

The old man looked as if he had not been out of the house in years. He and the white plaster walls inside were much the same. There was white in the flesh of his mouth and his cheeks and his hair was white and his eyes had faded, with white in the vague blueness there.

You don't know what it is. Every time I'm out there I think, 'If I ever get back to Earth I'll stay there; I'll never go out again.' But I go out, and I guess I'll always go out.

And this disease was called The Loneliness, because when you saw your home town dwindle to the size of your fist and then lemon-size and then pin-size and vanish in the fire-wake, you felt you had never been born, there was no town, you were nowhere, with space all around, nothing familiar, only other strange men.

And I? thought Hollis. What can I do? Is there anything I can do now to make up for a terrible and empty life? If only I could do one good thing to make up for the meanness I collected all these years and didn't even know was in me! But there's no one here but myself, and how can you do good all alone? You can't. Tomorrow night I'll hit Earth's atmosphere.

Neviens cilvÄ"ks otr? vairs neklaus?s, bet man vajag ar k?du parun?ties. Es nevaru run?t ar sien?m, jo t?s kliedz uz mani. Es nevaru run?t ar sievu, jo t? klaus?s vienÄ«gi sien?s. Es gribu, lai k?ds mani uz­klausÄ«tu. Un, ja es run?tu labi ilgi, varbÅ«t pateiktu kaut ko jÄ"dzÄ«gu. Un vÄ"l es gribu, lai jÅ«s man iem?c?t saprast to, ko es lasu.

it was suddenly so very wrong that he had begun to cry, not at death but at the thought of not crying at death, a silly empty man near a silly empty woman, while the hungry snake made her still more empty.

Any man who can take a TV wall apart and put it back together again, and most men can, nowadays, is happier than any man who tries to slide rule, measure, and equate the universe, which just won't be measured or equated without making man feel bestial and lonely.

going away from the people who ate shadows for breakfast and steam for lunch and vapours for supper.

We lived longer but at a price. We had to be our own children, having none.

Page 33 Oh, they don't miss me, she said. I'm very antisocial, they say. I don't mix. It's so strange. I'm very social indeed. It all depends on what you mean by social, doesn't it? Social to me means talking to you about things like this.

I couldn't have felt more of lonely desolation somehow, had I been robbed of a belief or had missed my destiny in life...

It is when we try to grapple with another man's intimate need that we perceive how incomprehensible, wavering and misty are the beings that share with us the sight of the stars and the warmth of the sun. It is as if loneliness were a hard and absolute condition of existence; the envelope of flesh and blood on which our eyes are fixed melts before the outstretched hand, and there remains only the capricious, unconsolable and elusive spirit that no eye can follow, no hand can grasp.

Who knows what true happiness is, not the conventional word.. but the naked terror. To the lonely themselves, that wears a mask, the most miserable outcast hugs some memory.. or some illusion.

This mournful and restless sound was a fit accompaniment to my meditations.

Don't be too sure,' he continued. "The other day I took up a man who hanged himself on the road. He was a Swede, too.' 'Hanged himself! Why, in God's name?' I cried. He kept on looking out watchfully. 'Who knows? The sun too much for him, or the country perhaps.

It was one of those dewy, clear, starry nights, oppressing our spirit, crushing our pride, by the brilliant evidence of the awful loneliness, of the hopeless obscure insignificance of our globe lost in the splendid revelation of a glittering, soulless universe.