Quotes About Loneliness

to return to that shadowy time of preexistence, she thought, when there was nothing particularly pressing to do except the occasional somersault, no thoughts, just interesting sensations of light and sound, and no loneliness, because those other two versions of you, who had been there forever, were right there beside you, not going anywhere.

People have asked me about the loneliness out on the race. But the race is when you finally have some social contact after a long winter of training alone on mostly empty trails. On the race you meet people at checkpoints, and you mix it up with other drivers, people from all walks of life who are bound together once a year by their miseries on the Iditarod Trail.

I'm an orphan now, thought Charlotte. No matter how old you are, when your parents are gone, you are alone - an orphan.

Besides, the normal people here wouldn't see it. That was what "different" meant. It's just another word for lonely.

The only place their voices were left was in my head. It was better than being alone but it was so, so lonely.

There was a hole inside her, and it twisted.

I am happy as happiness goes, for a woman who has so many memories and who lives the lonely life of an actress.

In this troublesome world, we are never quite satisfied. When you were here, I thought you hindered me some in attending to business; but now, having nothing but business---no variety---it has grown exceedingly tasteless to me. I hate to sit down and direct documents, and I hate to stay in this old room by myself.

Every heart has its secret sorrows which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad. —Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Hyperion

I lacked both community and purpose.

Instead, I gradually shut down. I stopped socialising altogether. It was just too much effort. I didn't answer emails because I found I had nothing to say. Eventually I didn't even pick up the phone. I left the answer phone on as often as possible, then failed to return calls. Eventually there weren't any calls for me. I

Kept Burning and Distant" You return when you feel like it, like rain. And like rain you are tender, with the rain's inept tenderness. A passion so general I could be anywhere. You carry me out into the wet air. You lay me down on the leaves and the strong thing is not the sex, But waking up alone under the tress after.

There were times when the light of the moon had gone out and she felt a great loneliness. It wasn't for herself. It was for what had happened to the grasses of their land, their waters, not just the massacre there, the slavery, but the killing of the ocean.

I think that if we can find the words, and if we can find someone to tell them to, then perhaps we can see things differently. But I had no words, and I had nobody. - 153

Perhaps we believe that anything is better than that which we all fear the most. Loneliness. Abandonment. But once you accept that fact that you have always been alone, and will always be, then your perspective can being to change. You can become aware of the small kindnesses, the little comforts. Be grateful for them. And with time you will understand that there is nothing to fear. And much to be grateful for.

Despite the enormous evening sky spreading over most of the canvas, its moon no more than a tarnished coin, dull and flat, in a devalued currency; despite the trees, so dark themselves, stretching upward like supplicants, utterly leafless; despite what could be a face, rinsed of feeling, aimed in their direction, the two small figures at the bottom of this picture glow bravely in their carnival clothes, as if the whole darkening world were dimming its lights for a party.

I need someone real, who will be right for me now, here, and soon. Until then I'm lost. I think I am mad at times." Because

Possibly from the outside this looks determinedly individual. Nobody realises what a mess of loneliness and inadequacy I am inside.

Sometimes you run away by yourself purely so someone who cares will come to find you. Half the time nobody does. That's the tragedy of life.

It's easier to run Replacing this pain with something numb It's so much easier to go Than face all this pain here all alone.

His social life, which should have been expanding, narrowed to a circle that was no larger than his mind, an imagined world in which his friends were phantoms, his lovers mere lumps of unmoving flesh.

Half an ear cocked, something in me, all night, every night, is waiting for you to come home.

Because when you get sick, I think that's the hardest part: living in a separate universe from everyone else, like having been exiled to a foreign country.

This was food without you. Our loft, rich with the international booty of baskets and carvings, took on the tacky, cluttered aspect of an import outlet: This was our home without you. Objects had never seemed so inert, so pugnaciously incompensatory. Your remnants mocked me: the jump rope limp on its hook; the dirty socks, stiff, caricatured deflations of your size eleven feet.