Quotes About Loneliness

We Americans are great on fillers, as if what we have, what we are, is not enough…. We have only to look at the houses we build to see how we build against space, the way we drink against pain and loneliness. We fill up space as if it were a pie shell, with things whose opacity further obstructs our ability to see what is already there.

A writer makes a pact with loneliness. It is her, or his, beach on which waves of desire, wild mind, speculation break. In my work, in my life, I am always moving toward and away from aloneness. To write is to refuse to cover up the rawness of being alive, of facing death.

L'uomo socialissimo è l'uomo segregatissimo. Casa mai vuota d'ospiti è già figura di Gulag.

Now you stride alone through the Paris crowds Busses in bellowing herds roll by Anguish clutches your throat As if you would never again be loved In the old days you would have turned monk With shame you catch yourself praying And jeer your laughter crackles like hellfire Its sparks gild the depths of your life Which like a painting in a dark museum You approach sometimes to peer at closely

Bio sam toliko blizu tebe, da mi je hladno pored drugih.

So nah war ich dir, dass mir kalt wird in der Nähe der anderen.

It is futile to deny the complexity of human emotions. Our lives are sometimes inscrutable, often disrupted by conflicting desires. Our lives are fragile, at once precious and insignificant, sometimes bathed in icy waters of loneliness, sometimes in the warm stream of a fountain of youth. Our lives, for the most part, are beyond our control.

Eons of loneliness, and then one day your ellipsis peaks toward that of another planet and there is a gasp of nearness. Wouldn't you try to make the most of it? Wouldn't you, too, combust and flare and explode if you had to?

People who have lived their whole lives feeling half-complete. Who never truly fit anywhere in the world. Who never understood why they were here, or what they were meant for. Who never answered the call, because they never heard it. Because nothing ever spoke to them.

It's a situation doomed enough to laugh at, but he thinks of what he used to tell his students. Imagine being a planet. Don't laugh, he'd tell them. Try to imagine it. Eons of loneliness, and then one day your ellipsis peaks toward that of another planet and there is a gasp of nearness. Wouldn't you try to make the most of it? Wouldn't you, too, combust and flare and explode if you had to?

Uno tiene que estar en algún lado, si tan sólo se pudiera ser sin estar entonces podría ser lo que se dice un alma solitaria.

El Von Humboldt barriobajero explorador, sabio y buscador de nuevas especies, ha creído encontrar un antro del tamaño de su melancolía.

Are you as lonely as Kaspar Hauser?" "Much worse than Kaspar Hauser. I'm as lonely as myself.

La soledad es el imperio de la conciencia.

Paseando por entre la indiferente multitud esta silenciosa tempestad de mi cabeza.

She realized for the first time that two people can never reach each others deepest feelings and instincts, that they spend their lives side by side, linked it may be, but not mingled, and that each one's inmost being must go through life eternally alone.

The reigning economic system is a vicious circle of isolation. Its technologies are based on isolation, and they contribute to that same isolation. From automobiles to television, the goods that the spectacular system chooses to produce also serve it as weapons for constantly reinforcing the conditions that engender "lonely crowds.

Dave hung up. And unplugged the phone. With a fierce and bitter pain he stared at it, watching how, over and over again, it didn't ring.

It is a sharp, cold life though, my darling. For a woman, for a man, without a hearth at the end of day for warmth. Without love to carry you outward and home.

One day it's been so long since you've talked to someone that it's impossible to say the things you should have said years ago.

Writing to you like this is the same as saying your name when I've woken up late, feeling sick, tasting rot. It's pointless, but it happens.

Already I am no longer looked at with lechery or love. My daughters and sons have put me away with marbles and dolls, Are gone from the house. My husband and lovers are pleasant or somewhat polite And night is night.

It is lonesome, yes. For we are the last of the loud. Nevertheless, live. Conduct your blooming in the noise and whip of the whirlwind.

When you went away, you left me nothing but the sun-bleached world. You did not even leave me a heart to bleed with. I found I was standing there with no body, and so no voice for calling you.