Quotes About Loneliness

It is not easy to keep the flame of hope burning in the cold, empty heart of Sollen. The Season of Snows is not the time to make bright plans for the future. One slow foot in front of the other—that was all the future I knew. Just one more step, and then one more . . . I cared about nothing else.

In short, you have all the social prospects of a garden gnome.

Prisons are about addictions. Most prisoners are casualties of their own habits. They have all created victims, some in cruel and callous ways, but almost to a man they have first practiced that cruelty on themselves. Prison provides the loneliness that fuels addiction. It is the slaughterhouse for addicts, and all are eventually delivered to its gates.

If the great internet connects us all ... then why are so many of us becoming increasingly isolated?

Humans, unlike Jedi, are powerfully afraid of rejection. We do not survive well alone, so humans as a species are especially vulnerable to thoughts that make us afraid the rest of the "tribe" will desert us to die a sad, lonely death.

Insanity is a very lonely and empty existence - it's painfully true. They may laugh and smile, and skip and dance, but behind all the faces there is hollowness like a bottomless pit. The living dead, depression is a terrible illness, so is psychosis, the mentally inflicted beyond cure.

Mad people are very emotionally orientated! They have complex feelings, they're easily upset, but are also easy to please! Most mad people have lonely lives, as nobody understands them. So they become "Lost Souls." They dream a lot. Go within their minds to search - some will turn strange, become dangerous. So a madman is created! His world becomes a mission.

And Goodness knows The Wicked's lives are lonely Goodness knows The Wicked die alone

He's still half with usConniving slyly, yet he knows he's goneInto that cellar where they'll never find him,Happy to be alone, his last work done,Word freed from world, into a different wood.

Once you freeze all the way through to your soul, you will never feel warm again.

It was 9pm, the fag end of another dismal day.

I think I meant that, given the circumstances of my childhood, I had the illusion that it's easier to be alone. To have your relationships be casual and also to pose as a solitary person, because it was more romantic. You know, I was raised on the idea of the ramblin' man and the loner.

People. One might find friends here. She had found at least one friend already. And since she had had no friends at all, that was a treasure past any attempt at counting.

Travel takes control away from us, exposing our weakest points. We are acutely aware of our vulnerability. We are naive, unaccustomed, unacquainted, unversed. We are ignorant, roaming in the darkness of the unfamiliar. We are lonely, lost, disoriented. Travel pushes us across the chasm. We are moved to explore the mysterious, to confront our fear, to venture beyond the challenging, cryptic crevasses of our path.

I'm quite a loser. I've done nothing in my life for the past 12 years. I'd just eat, sleep, run and do nothing except shooting.

I've always thought a hotel ought to offer optional small animals. I mean a cat to sleep on your bed at night, or a dog of some kind to act pleased when you come in. You ever notice how a hotel room feels so lifeless?

I can't sleep the first night in a hotel room.

I think a lot of kids feel alone and slightly isolated and in their own world.

A slug is always on its own. It's a lonely insect.

The loneliest you will get is in the most public of arenas: You will go to a place and end up in the smallest compartment possible, because it's a distraction to everybody, and you end up not getting to enjoy it like everyone else.

Why do I write? It's not that I want people to think I am smart, or even that I am a good writer. I write because I want to end my loneliness.

Being the smartest person in the room I think can be very lonely.

When I was a young boy, I would wake to an empty, silent house. My parents would return home at lunchtime, bringing with them the mulchy smell of the farmyard.

I remember the cover of this one L'Amour book showed a guy on horseback, leading a pack horse across a creek in the snow. Something about that cover - all I wanted to do was drift the high lonesome on horseback.