Quotes About Loneliness

Sea, I am like you, filled with broken voices

Der Mensch hängt an dem Seinen, an sich selbst und dem Seinen, bis über den Tod hinaus und bangt davor, das Leben aus den Händen zu verlieren - dies Wirklichste von allem Wirklichen, dies Erbärmlichste von allem Erbärmlichen, dies Unendlichste von allem Unendlichen; bangt vor der Einsamkeit, auf der sein selbst beruht, die sein Selbst ist, bangt davor, ohne Mitmenschen ringsum zu sein - und vielleicht von Gott vergessen.

After the pain of this disappointment her heart once more stood empty, and the succession of identical days began again.

for her, life was as cold as an attic with a window looking to the north, and ennui, like a spider, was silently spinning its shadowy web in every cranny of her heart.

For a long time now my heart has had its shutters closed, its steps deserted, formerly a tumultuous hotel, but now empty and echoing like a great empty tomb.

Having no intercourse with anyone, she lived in the torpid state of a sleep-walker.

But her life was as cold as an attic facing north; and boredom, like a silent spider, was weaving its web in the shadows, in every corner of her heart.

But she—her life was cold as a garret whose dormer window looks on the north, and ennui, the silent spider, was weaving its web in the darkness in every corner of her heart.

I am alone on this road strewn with bones and bordered by ruins! Angels have their brothers, and demons have their infernal companions. Yet I have but the sound of my scythe when it harvests, my whistling arrows, my galloping horse. Always the sound of the same wave eating away at the world

Od svega ovoga što sledi niko ništa nije znao, i oni koji su me svakog dana vi?ali nisu znali ništa više od drugih; bili su, u odnosu na mene, kao postelja u kojoj spavam i koja ne zna moje snove. A usotalom, zar ljudsko srce nije ogromno samovanje u koje niko ne može da prodre?

et l'ennui, araignée silencieuse, filait sa toile dans l'ombre, à tous les coins de son coeur.

She now felt an incessant and universal numbness.

Art, like the Jewish God, wallows in sacrifices. So tear yourself to pieces, mortify your flesh, roll in ashes, smear yourself with filth and spittle, wrench out your heart! You will be alone, your feet will bleed, an infernal disgust will be with you throughout your pilgrimage, what gives joy to others will give none to you, what to them are but pinpricks will cut you to the quick, and you will be lost in the hurricane with only beauty's faint glow visible on the horizon.

Emma still had a joyless look, and, habitually, at the corners of her mouth, she had that tightness that crumples the faces of old maids and bankrupts.

When she was taken too bad she went off quite alone to the sea-shore, so that the customs officer, going his rounds, often found her lying flat on her face, crying on the shingle. Then, after her marriage, it went off, they say. But with me, replied Emma, it was after marriage that it began.

In spite of her vapourish airs (as the housewives of Yonville called them), Emma, all the same, never seemed gay, and usually she had at the corners of her mouth that immobile contraction that puckers the faces of old maids, and those of men whose ambition has failed.

e ela permanecia perdida em um frio terrível que a atravessava.

What he then saw was like an apparition. She was seated in the middle of a bench all alone, or, at any rate, he could see no one, dazzled as he was by her eyes.

Embora ele estivesse separado dela, não a tinha abandonado, estava ali, e as paredes da casa pareciam guardar a sombra dele.

ennui, the silent spider, was weaving its web in the darkness in every corner of her heart.

But her own life was as cold as an attic with a north-facing window, and boredom, that silent spider, was spinning its web in the darkness in every corner of

Mais elle, sa vie était froide comme un grenier dont la lucarne est au nord, et l'ennui, araignée silencieuse, filait sa toile dans l'ombre à tous les coins de son cÅ"ur.

She had purchased for herself a blotting-case, stationery, a penholder and some envelopes, although she had no one to write to; she wiped the dust off her shelves, looked at herself in the mirror, took down a book, then, dreaming between the lines, let it fall in her lap. She had a desire to travel, or to go back and live at her convent. She wished both to die and to live in Paris.

Puis elle remontait, fermait la porte, étalait les charbons, et, défaillant à la chaleur du foyer, sentait l'ennui plus lourd qui retombait sur elle. Elle serait bien descendue causer avec la bonne, mais une pudeur la retenait.