Quotes About Loneliness

We don't actually fear death, we fear that no one will notice our absence, that we will disappear without a trace.

My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. 'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. 'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? 'I never know what you are thinking. Think.

I should have been a pair of ragged claws/ Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

Television is a medium of entertainment which permits millions of people to listen to the same joke at the same time, and yet remain lonesome.

There was a door And I could not open it. I could not touch the handle. Why could I not walk out of my prison? What is hell? Hell is oneself, Hell is alone, the other figures in it Merely projections. There is nothing to escape from And nothing to Escape to. One is always alone.

Every street lamp that I pass Beats like a fatalistic drum, And through the spaces of the dark Midnight shakes the memory As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

Everyone's alone—or so it seems to me. They make noises, and think they are talking to each other; They make faces, and think they understand each other, And I'm sure they don't. Is that delusion? Can we only love Something created in our own imaginations?

Forgive us, O Lord, we acknowledge ourselves as type of the common man, Of the men and women who shut the door and sit by the fire; Who fear the blessing of God, the loneliness of the night of God, the surrender required, the deprivation inflicted; Who fear the injustice of men less than the justice of God; Who fear the hand at the window, the fire in the thatch, the fist in the tavern, the push into the canal, Less than we fear the love of God.

The remarkable thing about television is that it permits several million people to laugh at the same joke and still feel lonely.

I an old man, A dull head among windy spaces.

Living among strangers, with no one to talk to.

You can't understand me. It's not being alone That is the horror, to be alone with the horror. What matters is the filthiness. I can clean my skin, Purify my life, void my mind, But always the filthiness, that lies a little deeper . . .

At the beginning, eight years ago, I felt, at first, that sense of separation, Of isolation unredeemable, irrevocable— It's eternal, or gives a knowledge of eternity, Because it feels eternal while it lasts. That is one hell.

You read articles about how the Internet has created a lonelier world, with people isolating themselves behind their screens, connecting to a flat keyboard rather than to other people in a park or a party. Yes and no. Yes and no. It depends on who you are, and where. Some of us never had parks or parties to connect in. Some of us never will.

There were more problems with solitude than just being horny and bored. If you didn't have anyone to talk to for days on end, you didn't have anyone to let you know whether you were going nuts or not.

Era un simple punto brillante en la horrorosa tormenta..., pero incluso un brillo solitario puede devolver sano y salvo a un viajero a su casa.

John Wulgaru, she thought when she got back. Her hands were shaking. Is that his name, then? Am I the only person who knows that? Or the only person still alive?

He was not great; he was, in fact, very small. At the same moment, though, he was important, just as any point of light in a dark sky might be the star that led a mariner to safety, or the star watched by a lonely child during a sleepless night. . . .

As solemn music played, vying with the harsh wind to be heard, the thought came to many of those who watched that although Sesuad'ra's defenders had won an improbable and heroic victory, they had paid dearly for it. The fact that they had defeated only the tiniest portion of the forces arrayed against them, and had lost nearly half their number in doing so, made the winter-shrouded hillcrest seem an even colder and lonelier place.

Barrick could only stand and watch them go, alone with the tribe of incomprehensible strangers who lived now in his blood and his thoughts.

There can be few situations more fearful than breaking down in darkness on the highway leading to Casablanca. I have rarely felt quite so vulnerable or alone.

I can't believe there's a prison anywhere out here,' Blaine said, turning the engine off. 'It's the middle of nowhere.

Just like that. It's time I started paying attention, before I end up like Stan Dempsey, living alone with an arsenal and one lawn chair in the backyard.

The wolf who sings alone is not happy.