Quotes About Loneliness

God, I miss you," he said in a voice that cracked. "Every night. Every day…

Butch was quiet for a time. Then he said, I think that's why I like Jane. huh? When you look at her? You actually see her, and when's the last time that's happened for you? V geared himself up, then stared hard into Butch's eyes. I saw you. even though it was wrong. I saw you. Shit, he sounded sad. Sad and...lonely. Which made him want to change the subject.

I'm talking to you more than I speak with my mahmen." "I thought your mother was dead." "She is." "You have a very low standard for communication.

And bottom line, without John by her side, everything seemed to be just a big, resounding meh.

Without his mate to share his life, he was but a screen for events and circumstances to pass through. He was npt even empty, for he was no vessel to hold even the thinnest of air. He lived, though was not truly alive

Dearest Virgin Scribe, without his father, he was so alone, even as he was surrounded by people who served him.

Loneliness was just like winter, he decided. Cold and pervasive, trapping you inside your own head because what was outside was so inhospitable. Was he never going to be warm again?

If you were loved, if you had people who cared about you, you could be by yourself and never feel alone. But if no one cared? You were isolated even in a crowd.

Sometimes kindness and love could be just as difficult as violence to witness. Sometimes, when you were on the outside looking in, watching two in-sync people was a scene from a horror film, the kind of thing that you wanted to look away from, forget about, banish the memory of - especially when you were about to go to bed for the day and facing hours upon hours of being alone in the dark. The knowledge that she would never have that special love with anyone was-

His heart was as empty as her stare.

And he was not lonely. Never had been. Vengeance was one hell of a roommate.

También ponía la televisión, para oír voces, pero eso no hace que dejes de sentirte sola.

Being left behind was a special kind of loss. —

Butch let his head fall loose on his shoulders and he wept openly… though not out of happiness, as they must have assumed. He wept at the hollowness he felt. Because however wonderful this all was, it seemed empty to him. Without his mate to share his life with, he was but a screen for events and circumstances to pass through. He was not even empty, for he was no vessel to hold even the thinnest of air. He lived, though was not truly alive.

Lowering his eyes, he said softly, "I have not seen the sun since before my transition. Can you blame me for staring.

But an inspired heart could make stupid out of anybody. It also made you pretty frickin' lonely. But who was counting the benefits of unrequited love.

She was so alone. Caged in a beautiful, wealthy, fancy nightmare where the bogeymen wore tuxedos and smoking jackets and the vultures swooped down on wings of satin and silk to peck out her eyes.

No, you also matter. A lot." As tears came to her eyes, she ducked her head and blinked fast. That was what had been missing from her relationship with Gerry at the end, she realized: She had not mattered any longer to him, and since his death? She hadn't mattered to anybody—including herself. If you were loved, if you had people who cared about you, you could be by yourself and never feel alone. But if no one cared? You were isolated even in a crowd.

he was ever alone now, set apart from those around him, separated by a divide he could see across but never cover. To be without family was a strange, unseeable prison, the bars of loneliness and rootlessness enclosing ever more tightly as years and experience accumulated, isolating a male such that he touched naught and naught touched him. Darius

Loneliness was just like winter, he decided. Cold and pervasive, trapping you inside your own head because what was outside was so inhospitable.

The thing was, they had something in common, something that crossed species lines and eclipsed social stratifications and bonded them together even though she would have denied it. She was lonely, too, and in the same way he was.

He pushed her jacket off her shoulders. It was warm in the room now, and she was comfortable in her sleeveless top. He skimmed his hands down her arms, and he drew her against him. I missed holding you. I m sure you haven t been lonely without me. He stopped and pulled her back. There hasn't been anyone since I was with you. Believe that. All I did after you left was play ball and brood a lot.

Since I met you, being alone sucks.

We are a singularity that makes music out of noise because we must hurry. We make a harvest of loneliness and desiring in the blank wasteland of the cosmos.