Quotes About Loneliness

We have a million ways to get ahold of people, and we're the loneliest we've ever been.

A big part of depression is feeling really lonely, even if you're in a room full of a million people.

Being on tour, it's really easy to stop knowing people that you want to know, because you're not sharing experiences; you're not existing in the minor moments of somebody's life.

Then he had kept himself to himself, in the way you might stick by a tree, which might be rotten, but at least it's a tree, and heart and understanding had been dismissed, pushed into the background.

When you have lost your closest human being everything seems empty to you, look wherever you like, everything is empty, and you look and look and you see that everything is really empty and, what is more, for ever, Reger said. And you realize that it was not those great minds and not those old masters which kept you alive for decades but that it was this one single person whom you loved more than anyone else.

Durerea mi-a vorbit astfel:Tu nu e?ti om.E?ti o f?ptur? care nu se poate amesteca printre oameni.O vie?uitoare cam trist? ?i ciudat?,e?ti departe de a fi om

Eu sunt un gânditor posesiv.Mi-ar fi pl?cut s? cred c? Goya a pictat numai pentru mine,Gogol ÅŸi Goethe au scris numai pentru mine,Bach a compus numai pnetru mine.Cum aceasta este un paralogism,iar pe deasupra ÅŸi o teribil? infamie,sunt în fond mereu nefericit. Chiar dac? citesc o carte,am totuÅŸi sentimentul ÅŸi înÅ£elegerea c? aceasta c?tre mine a fost scris?,numai pentru mine.

Sólo he creído siempre estar solo, pero nunca he estado solo... sólo ahora estoy realmente solo...

De noche a través de Aldrans... nadie... grito, nadie me oye... por miedo converso con el eco que produzco... así, con la voz que me pertenece y que no es oída, nada engendra confianza.

Guilt and misery shrink, by a natural instinct, from public notice: they court privacy and solitude: and even in their choice of a grave will sometimes sequester themselves from the general population of the churchyard, as if declining to claim fellowship with the great family of man; thus, in a symbolic language universally understood, seeking (in the affecting language of Mr. Wordsworth) ' Humbly to express A penitential loneliness.

She was not an existence, an experience, a passion, a structure of sensations, to anybody but herself. To all humankind besides Tess was only a passing thought. Even to friends she was no more than a frequently passing thought.

To be loved to madness--such was her great desire. Love was to her the one cordial which could drive away the eating loneliness of her days. And she seemed to long for the abstraction called passionate love more than for any particular lover.

Somebody might have come along that way who would have asked him his trouble, and might have cheered him by saying that his notions were further advanced than those of his grammarian. But nobody did come, because nobody does; and under the crushing recognition of his gigantic error Jude continued to wish himself out of the world.

But nobody did come, because nobody does: and under the crushing recognition of his gigantic error Jude continued to wish himself out if the world.

But what between the poor men I won't have, and the rich men who won't have me, I stand as a pelican in the wilderness!

Ah, if I could only make your dear heart ache one little minute of each day as mine does every day and all day long, it might lead you to show pity to your poor lonely one....

I looked up from my writing, And gave a start to see, As if rapt in my inditing, The moon's full gaze on me.

Because 'tis always mournful not to be wanted, even if at the same time 'tis convenient.

Let that day be darkness; let not God regard it from above, neither let the light shine upon it. Lo, let that night be solitary, let no joyful voice come within.

Well -- I'm an outsider to the end of my days!

For a moment he seemed impressed with the speaking loneliness of the scene, or rather with the complete abstraction from all its compass of the sights and sounds of man.

Human shapes, interferences, troubles, and joys were all as if they were not, and there seemed to be on the shaded hemisphere of the globe no sentient being save himself; he could fancy them all gone round to the sunny side.

It was still early, and though the sun's lower limb was just free of the hill, his rays, ungenial and peering, addressed the eye rather than the touch as yet. There was not a human soul near. Sad October and her sadder self seemed the only two existences haunting that lane.

Her house looked cold from the foggy lea, And the square of each window a dull black blur Where showed no stir: Yes, her gloom within at the lack of me Seemed matching mine at the lack of her. The black squares grew to be squares of light As the eyeshade swathed the house and lawn, And viols gave tone; There was glee within. And I found that night The gloom of severance mine alone