Quotes About Loneliness

But she wasn't there, leaving the unarmed Walter alone and unprotected.

Where can I go. Is it possible to imagine a world, a time, where I would have a place. There's no one I could ask. That's the answer.

Marvin, her ?ey yolunda m??" Hay?r, hiçbir ?ey yolunda de?il. Bir sonraki güne? sistemine yakla??k 40.850.000.000.000 kilometre uzaktay?z. Samanyolu'nun çap? 100.000 ???k y?l?. Bir ???k yolu 9,46 milyar kilometre. Bu kavranamaz uzakl?klar?n yan?nda, ya?ad???m gezegen tamam?yla bir hiç. Bu durumda nas?l olmal?y?m? Hiçbir ?ekilde iyi olamayaca??m kesin.

I am ninety-one years old, and almost everyone who was once in my life is now a ghost. Sometimes these

It's hard to say what's in my head. It's been a long time since anyone cared to ask.

I feel myself retreating to someplace deep inside. It is a pitiful kind of childhood, to know that no one loves you or is taking care of you, to always be on the outside looking in.

so alone was almost spiritual—but something in Abby's voice makes her pause. "You might have a better idea," she says. "But you two were 'best friends,'" Abby says mockingly. She taps ash from her cigarette into a chipped teacup on the table. Kathryn looks at her. "I thought so." She swallows hard. "But

When she leaves, I inspect my reflection in the mirror—the first time since arriving in Minnesota I've looked in a whole piece of mirror unclouded by spots and damage. A girl I barely recognize stares back. She is thin and pale, dull eyed, with sharp cheekbones and matted dark red hair, wind-chapped cheeks, and a red-rimmed nose. Her lips are scabbed, and her sweater is pilled and soiled with dirt. I swallow—she swallows. My throat hurts. I must be getting sick.

It is a pitiful kind of childhood, to know that no one loves you or is taking care of you, to always be on the outside looking in.

woman she pays to take care of her, she is as alone as a person can be. She has never tried to

It was during this period that she would wake in the night and get out of bed to go to her parents' room, only to realize, standing in the hall, that she had no parents.

I look up into the starless sky. My heart pounds. This silent badlands scares me more than nighttime in the city, with its noise and light.

the pain of the constant, bone-chilling loneliness she'd accustomed herself to. And learned to live with it.

A Daughter of Eve... Talk what you please of future spring And sun-warm'd sweet to-morrow: Stripp'd bare of hope and everything, No more to laugh, no more to sing, I sit alone with sorrow.

Unrequited love is the infinite curse of a lonely heart.

Ça m'a fait un peu mal, cette voix sans visage, toute grave, tendue et ces cinq petits mots : Mais enfin je suis là.

As she stands in the doorway watching him, the feeling comes on her again, under her breastbone, between her ribs. A feeling that is one second of joy, two seconds of grief. And she knows then: what has been removed is loneliness and what has been added is love

The trouble is not really in being alone, it's being lonely. One can be lonely in the midst of a crowd, don't you think?

There may be cures to loneliness but marriage is not one of them

When I was born I was unwanted. When I married Charles I was unwanted. When I joined the Royal Family I was unwanted. I want to be wanted. —Diana, Princess of Wales

That's what love hotels are for." "I know," says Ai, "but this man comes alone. He says he comes to this room and thinks about the lovers who have been here before him, imagines himself as one of them, imagines himself having someone to hold. He tells whoever is reading this that he's grateful for the love we share without knowing.

Your life, sir, is propelled By a dream of the fear of having nightmares; your love Is the fear of being alone; your world's history The fear of a possible leap by a possible antagonist Out of a possible shadow, or a not-improbable Skeleton out of your dead-certain cupboard.

Sometimes when you are in a foreign country it feels like everyone is in on a joke against you.

Or perhaps it was the crying woman's mention of the unread library books, because truly there was nothing sadder, except a gift that a person has hand made for you, a scarf or a poncho, that, try as you might, you cannot ever see your way into wearing. This is when the cold indifference of the world envelops you, and makes you feel invigorated by emotion but also acutely alone.