Quotes About Loneliness

Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sunburnt; I may sit in a corner and cry heigh-ho for a husband!

Prince, thou art sad. Get thee a wife, get thee a wife. There is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn.

The poor soul sat singing by a sycamore tree. Sing all a green willow: Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, Sing willow, willow, willow: The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans; Sing willow, willow, willow; Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones; Lay by these: Sing willow, willow, willow; Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon.

and Anthony, Enthroned i'th'market-place, did sit alone Whistling to th'air, which but for vacancy Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, And made a gap in Nature.

Mercifully, I was at that age when reading was still a passion and thus, save for a happy marriage, the best state possible in which to keep absolute loneliness at bay. I could not have made it through those evenings otherwise.

I suddenly encountered the face of loneliness, and decided that it was a merciless and ugly face indeed.

To make matters worse, I was out of a job and had very little money and was self-exiled to Flatbush—like others of my countrymen, another lean and lonesome Southerner wandering amid the Kingdom of the Jews.

For the first time in my life, which had for years been sometimes witlessly gregarious, I discovered the pain of unwanted solitude. Like a felon suddenly thrown into solitary confinement, I found myself feeding off the unburned fat of inward resources I barely knew I possessed.

Mercifully, I was at that age when reading was still a passion and thus, save for a happy marriage, the best state possible in which to keep absolute loneliness at bay.

Fur trade's damn near gone; pilgrims pourin' in over the trails me and all the others opened up. Hate to see it. Why, I seen five white people just last month. Five! Gettin' so's a body can't even be alone no more.

hound weren't the only ones awake that night.

Hers would be the perpetual ache of loss and loneliness, slowly dulled with time until it became a part of her character, a faint sourness tinged with withered pride.

One did not so much feel sorrow at his absence as a sense of the unfitness of his not being there.

All the adult family was present except Beth, Paul's wife, who was sharing Keren's lonely vigil in the cottage over the hill. Despised by Keren in life, Beth could yet not bear the thought of allowing her to lie untended all through the summer evening.

The sense of separateness from others, of loneliness, had not often been so strong as that morning. He wondered if there was any true content in life, if all men were as troubled as he with a sense of disillusion. It had not always been so. His childhood had been happy enough in the unthinking way that childhoods are.

quando il cielo si riempiva di nubi basse e il mare era grigio e triste come un amante abbandonato [...]

She pushed the bolt across the door and sat abruptly in the first chair. Her romance was over; even though she rebelled against the fact, she knew that it was so. She felt faint and sick and desperately tired of being alive. If death could come quietly and peacefully she would accept it, would sink into it as one sank into a bed wanting only sleep and self-forgetfulness.

I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed.

within the four walls of avalanches, I call out to Yeti. Stomping my feet for warmth on the snow the snow eternal.

the love which Kahu received from Koro Apirana was the sort that dropped off the edge of the table, like breadcrumbs after everybody else has had a big meal.

Gdybym z ziemi robi? wycieczk? na jak? inn? planet?, lub cho?by na ksi??yc, te? wola?bym by? z kim? - na wszelki wypadek, ?eby moja ludzko?? mia?a si? w czym przejrze?.

Ju? si? ?ciemnia?o, ju? prawie by?o ciemno. I wilgotno. Gdzie Fryderyk?

Und hinter allem? Hinter allem, was du Gott, Strom und Stern, Nacht, Spiegel oder Kosmos und Hilde oder Evelyn nennst – hinter allem stehst immer du selbst.Eisig einsam. Erbärmlich. Groß. Dein Gelächter. Deine Not. Deine Frage. Deine Antwort. Hinter allem,uniformiert, nackt oder sonstwie kostümiert, schattenhaft verschwankt, in fremder fast scheuer ungeahnt grandioser Dimension: Du selbst. Deine Liebe. Deine Angst.Deine Hoffnung.

Schrei nicht los, wenn du eine halbe Stunde im Nebel stehst, nachts,einsam. Du triffst immer wieder auf die andern. Komm, Junge, werd nicht müde! Hör nicht hin auf die sentimentale Klimperei des süßen Xylophonspielers, hör nicht hin.