Quotes About Loneliness

Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now? Since passion may not fire thee Shall Nature cease to bow? Thy mind is ever moving In regions dark to thee; Recall its useless roving -- Come back and dwell with me.

I am the only being whose doom No tongue would ask no eye would mourn I never caused a thought of gloom A smile of joy since I was born In secret pleasure -- secret tears This changeful life has slipped away As friendless after eighteen years As lone as on my natal day.

Life's an awfully lonesome affair. You come into the world alone and you go out of the world alone yet it seems to me you are more alone while living than even going and coming.

Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.

A dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed.'" "But why not employ them?" said Rose, who was not learned in Byron; "you have a home." "Such as it is." "And relations.

But never met this FellowAttended or aloneWithout a tighter breathingAnd Zero at the Bone—

This is my letter to the WorldThat never wrote to Me—The simple News that Nature told—With tender Majesty.

I miss him in so many ways, but right now I miss him in the way you always miss someone when you're single among a room full of couples.

That's what Jamie didn't understand: it was never just sex. Even the fastest, dirtiest, most impersonal screw was about more than sex. It was about connection. It was about looking at another human being and seeing your own loneliness and neediness reflected back. It was recognising that together you had the power to temporarily banish that sense of isolation. It was about experiencing what it was to be human at the basest, most instinctive level. How could that be described as just anything?

It was disconcerting that being in love felt lonelier than lonelines.

She was seventy-three, a widow, came in every night looking like the Queen, drank her body weight in gin and left looking like an unmade bed.

I don't think that loneliness is necessarily a bad or unconstructive condition. My own skill at jamming time may actually be dependent on some fluid mixture of emotions, among them curiosity, sexual desire, and love, all suspended in a solvent medium of loneliness.

My springs is getting rusty, sleeping single like I do.

You carry this pain around inside all day and all night long. No way to beat it--no way. But when I started getting high, I was cool, and it didn't bother me. And I wasn't lonely then, it was all right. And the chicks--I could handle them, they couldn't reach me. And I didn't know I was hooked--until I was hooked.

When my bed get empty, make me feel awful mean and blue.

Gazing out at the placid sea of bricky gables, at the pleasant parks and school playgrounds, I felt a pang of resentment, the same pain I remembered when my wife kissed me fondly, waved a little shyly from the door of our Chelsea apartment, and walked out on me for good. Affection could reveal itself in the most heartless moments.

Why were we so far apart, even when we were together? It was a nice loneliness, like the sensation of washing your face in cold water.

Me, when I'm utterly exhausted by it all, when my skin breaks out, on those lonely evenings when I call my friends again and again and nobody's home, then I despise my own life - my birth, my upbringing, everything.

My loneliness was an important part of my own little universe, not some pathological disease that needs to be gotten [sic] rid of.

He was quiet in the way people are when they believe the world would get along just fine without them.

So, have you been enjoying yourself these days, Kazami?' I'm having lots of fun.' It was true. That made the sense of regret even keener, that this time in my life would soon be a thing of the past. I felt as if I could understand a little of what my mother had been through, and the feelings she may have had at different times. I wasn't a child anymore, and this made me feel awfully lonesome, and utterly alone.

There was a real sense of comfort but at the same time it felt oddly tense. The feeling that every little things we said, these conversations, at any moment, they could stop being possible, and so they were precious, it was that feeling, and the sense of the miracle of this shared moment, here and now. Why were we so far apart, even when we are together? It was anice loneliness, like th sensation of washing your face with cold water.

She walks away as if she were going to disappear. I wonder if I'll ever see her again." I turned and saw her yellow blouse receding into the distance as she walked along the busy street. She looked like a balloon someone had let loose in the sky. We watched her go.

If someone could give me some sort of evidence that what we're doing here is really love, I'd be so tremendously relieved that I'd probably kneel down at that person's feet. And if it isn't love, if it's eventually going to end, I want to go on sleeping like this; I want to stop hearing the phone when he calls. Let me be alone again.