Quotes About Loneliness

Sometimes I just feel so shut in, with all those people and they've all got something while I've got nothing.

But I can't do anything for him and he can't do anything for me. We must wail in our own corners.

I am out of the saga, he thought. He had a heavy sense of being left in total isolation; everyone had withdrawn from him and the person who could most have helped him was pre-empted by another.

I had the illusion of conversing with a fellow being without a barrier, without a steel door, without a black hood over my head . . . I have never, I think, impressed upon you how almost impossible I find it to communicate with anybody.

You talk of freedom — I've never had it! I've been lonely and miserable and in despair, and you want me to consent to all that all over again!

I must have been assuming that without me there it would be all cobwebs and desolation.

Desperate for help, living his life now as a hideous dream, he had told nobody.

He lay on his back listening to his mother's quiet snoring and thinking how increasingly awful his life was becoming. It was as if he were being squeezed out of the world.

You are sad. I am always sad.

The human soul is not framed for continued proximity, and the result of this enforced neighbourhood is often an appalling loneliness for which the rules of the game forbid assuagement.

Getting through time was rather the problem. The cry of 'Help me!' — but there was no one there.

If only he could be loved by somebody new.

I'm as lonely as a lunatic.

solitary sinister men with terrible secrets — of whom Clement now and forever after must be one.

Bellamy thought, he is beginning to avoid me, my presence embarrasses him, my problems irritate him. I am becoming an unperson.

Bellamy was sorry to hurt Clement's feelings, but he so intensely wanted to be alone where he could confront the awful cacophony of his own feelings.

I'm just one long disappointment.

Cambridge by moonlight was light blue and brownish black. There was no mist here and a great vault of clear stars hung over the city with an intent luxurious brilliance. It was the sort of night when one knows of other galaxies. My long shadow glided before me on the pavement. Although it was not yet eleven o'clock the place seemed empty and I moved through it like a mysterious and lonely harlequin in a painting: like an assassin.

You're miserable by yourself, you just mope. Don't you, don't you?' 'I enjoy misery and moping.

So it is that we can be terrors to each other, and people in lonely rooms suffer humiliation and even damage because of others in whose consciousness perhaps they scarcely figure at all.

He did not consciously wish for death but he grieved at night for some blank thing which he could not even name.

I can't see why anyone would want to go on living when they've got like that. Whatever can he look forward to?' 'The next drink.' 'Well, you would! I think old age is awful. I hope I'll never be old.

The easiest thing to think was that he was going to die. This was not exactly an intent to commit suicide, though he did consider suicide, it was rather a sense of the impossibility of surviving much longer, whatever he did, whatever he chose. He felt rent apart by an unremitting mental, felt as physical, strain. When he was alone he groaned aloud.

He felt irritably dissatisfied with himself. Then his old huge familiar misery gradually returned like an old friend.