Quotes About Loneliness

There was only me to save me, because no one else cared.

I do not care if they do not like me, he said. Maybe then they will let me alone, and I will not have to stay in China. The thought visibly struck him, and his head came up with sudden enthusiasm. If I were very offensive, do you suppose they would go away now? he asked. Laurence, what would be particularly insulting Hammond looked like Pandora, the box open and horrors loose upon the world. Laurence was inclined to laugh, but he stifled it out of sympathy.

Fear and work weren't all bad, as companions went. They were both better than loneliness, and the deeper fears, the worse ones that I knew would come true: that I wouldn't see my mother and father for ten years, that I'd never live again in my own home, never run wild in the woods again, that whatever strange alchemy acted on the Dragon's girls would soon begin to take hold of me, and make me into someone I wouldn't recognize at the end of it.

There was no eager ache of hunger in my belly from the long day of cooking and cleaning without a pause; there was no joyful noise of too many people crammed in around the table, laughing and reaching for the platters. Looking down at my tiny feast only made me feel more desperately lonely.

When allowed to return to the class, your feelings of humility and lonesomeness will render you a much finer student and person.

I wondered stony afternoons owning all their vastness.

rounded shoulders, the shoulders of women no one has touched for a long time. Men

At the same time, I heard from a cousin that my elderly relative was in a nursing home, but, 'because of COVID,' her family was not allowed to see her ... A sociable woman with many grandchildren who loved her, this isolation seemed like it would be a form of torture for her.

There are men and women so lonely they believe God, too, is lonely.

Give me hunger, O you gods that sit and give The world its orders. Give me hunger, pain and want, Shut me out with shame and failure From your doors of gold and fame, Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger! But leave me a little love, A voice to speak to me in the day end, A hand to touch me in the dark room Breaking the long loneliness.

There are some people so lonely, they think God is lonely too-

But leave me a little love, A voice to speak to me in the day end, A hand to touch me in the dark room Breaking the long loneliness. In the dusk of day-shapes Blurring the sunset, One little wandering, western star Thrust out from the changing shores of shadow. Let me go to the window, Watch there the day-shapes of dusk And wait and know the coming Of a little love. —Carl Sandburg, from "At the Window," Chicago Poems (Dover Publications, 1994)

until that moment I had not understood that this was a story about lonely people, about absence and loss, and that that was why I had taken refuge in it until it became confused with my own life, like someone who has escaped into the pages of a novel because those whom he needs to love seem nothing more than ghosts inhabiting the mind of a stranger.

Over time, loneliness gets inside you and doesn't go away.

The world's very small when you don't have anywhere to go.

Me abrumó la soledad que desprendía su persona y, a un tiempo, creí ver en su interior un abismo infinito al que no podía evitar asomarme.

Even then my only friends were made of paper and ink.

Go to hell, I whispered. The night darker than ever, leaned in against the window panes.

Those who aren't able to fall in love suffer all the more.

What's wrong with him? I could tell you it's the heart, but what is really killing him is loneliness. Memories are worse than bullets.

I left the apartment without even bothering to close the door behind me. Once outside, I faced a world of buildings and faces that seemed strange and distant. I started to walk aimlessly, oblivious to the cold and the rain-filled wind that was starting to lash the town with the breath of a curse.

I could tell you it's his heart, but what is really killing him is loneliness. Memories are worse than bullets.

Her face was lined with bitterness and her eyes looked glazed, tired of hating and weeping in solitude.

Le podría decir a usted que es el corazón, pero lo que lo mata es la soledad. Los recuerdos son peores que las balas.