Quotes About Loneliness

Oh, this coming back to an empty house,' Rupert thought, when he had seen her safely up to her door. People - though perhaps it was only women - seemed to make so much of it. As if life itself were not as empty as the house one was coming back to.

Prudence's flat was in the kind of block where Jane imagined people might be found dead, though she had never said this to Prudence herself; it seemed rather a macabre fancy and not one to be confided to an unmarried woman living alone.

Such a nice couple they made, Sister Dew thought, seeing him return alone to his own house. She wondered if she should take him one of the steak and kidney pies she had baked that morning, but then – with unusual delicacy – judged it to be not quite the moment. And of course there was no question of taking one to Miss Broome – one did not take cooked food to lone women in the same way as to lone men.

Ageing, slightly mad and on the threshold of retirement, it was an uneasy combination and it was no wonder that people shied away from her or made only the most perfunctory remarks. It was difficult to imagine what her retirement would be like—impossibe and rather gruesome to speculate on it.

Do you cook for yourself then?' 'I live alone, you know. Since my wife died…' 'Yes, of course, Miss Morrow told me.' 'Really? What did she say?' 'Oh, how sad it was and all that sort of thing,' said Jane rapidly with her eyes on the ground.

Again, she wanted to photograph Thomas, or rather the scene itself—the quality of yellow against the wall behind his head, the smeary look of the water on the window, his strong brown hands clasped around that plain cup. The sight of his knuckles felt both too comfortable and too enclosing, and with a sense of rising panic, she looked at the rain and wondered how long it would last. How long could two strangers just make small talk

Without me, without me, Everyday's misery. But with me - am I wrong? No night is too long!

We are all mad at three in the morning

Having someone else in the house, a large, clever, overbearing yet indifferent presence, mitigates loneliness not at all.

Isolation might be more hazardous than splendor.

Then I sped across the prairies of ether and stood upon the moon. It was no longer luminous, its hardness hurt my feet; And I found that it had nothing either to sell or give me; Its empty frankness was brutal as a blow.

I lie alone under the mocking sky. The midnight hours indifferently walk by.

No desert waste is lonelier than I. The arid pain of Love has burned me dry.

A man and a woman come together as strangers When they part they're usually strangers still It's like a practical joke played on us by our Maker Empty bottles that can't be filled

Everything had been done so quietly that Peter was quite unaware of his friends' sad fate. He only knew that he was all alone, that Wendy and Michael, and John, and all the Lost Boys who had been his companions were on their way from the Never-Never-Never-Land to the country of the ordinary people who wear tall hats and frock coats as soon as they are old enough, and grow up one after the other.

I never had a man nor a son nor anything. I just call myself Missis to give me a standing.

after our split, I wanted to believe that whatever had been between us was unique, that it could never happen again. Because if it was exceptional, it must be an exception, maybe even the exception that proved the rule. And the rule was that I would always be alone, and could never trust anyone.

Loneliness is one of the bugbears of mankind. With some people, it is a constant source of unhappiness. They make plans, sometimes exceedingly complex, to keep it at bay. They think that it lies outside. It really lies within their own consciousness.

Hell is being alone.

It seems to be that loneliness is a small price to pay for peace and quiet.

Yeah, I know what the shrinks say: "Conflict and conflict resolution are the mainstays of human intimacy." That fatuous little axiom may be true, but it presupposes that human intimacy is a desirable thing. I have never been nearly as happy with somebody else in the room as I am when I'm by myself. It seems to me that loneliness is a small price to pay for peace and quiet.

Loneliness is just a permanent fact of life. And if you buy into the illusion that you can somehow escape it, you're in for a world of hurt. Want to know the biggest lie ever written? 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. What an unmitigated pile of shit.

Twilight whippoorwill... Whistle on, sweet deepener Of dark loneliness

Sadder than destitution, sadder than the beggar is the man who eats alone in public. Nothing more contradicts the laws of man or beast, for animals always do each other the honour of sharing or disputing each other's food.