Quotes About Loneliness

Somewhere there is someone that dreams of your smile, and finds in your presence that life is worthwhile, so when you are lonely remember its true, someone somewhere is thinking of you.

People are lonely because they build walls instead of bridges.

My biggest fear is that I will become too comfortable with the idea of being lonely for the rest of my life.

Great talents have some admirers, but few friends

Sometimes when you're really lonely, you really feel alive and you feel like you know who you are.

Street deserted because the people were forced to do so.

Once upon a time, there was a little creature that was rather small and rather wicked and it lived all alone in the woods. The little creature lived in a little den, at the bottom of a little ravine, filled with not-at-all little brambles and on the edge of a forest that could only be described as really freakin' huge.

See over there, I can be me, he says. I smile but it makes me sad. I haven't found any safe spaces. Damien says, you're safe with me. Until I'm not. He raises an eyebrow. With you I mean, I add. I dream about an internship on the West Coast, but there is nothing for me to do. I am not the president's daughter. I've never met a movie star. I barely watch television.

My grandfather lived alone in this room with no one to love for twenty-six years. That kind of loneliness takes real strength.

On the bad days, there is no color. I know there are colors. I can see the colors, but the world looks gray. The sounds are muffled by a crackling web of static that sits behind my eyes and buzzes in my ears.

Men love because they are afraid of themselves, afraid of the loneliness that lives in them, and need someone in whom they can lose themselves as smoke loses itself in the sky.

If you write a novel alone you sit and you weave a little narrative. And it's O.K., but it's of no account.

The writer is all alone.

We left you there, lonely, Beauty your power, Wisdom your watchman, To hold the clay tower. from 'The Tale of the Tiger Tree

There is something in a man's fate that has eyes that remember whether he has someone to come home to or not.

True, I played, fought and studied with other children, but always I stood apart within. … A cosmic loneliness was my shadow.

most people never experience such a passion, that I had been incredibly, divinely fortunate to have found, in a world where most souls dig there own graves with the sharp edge of their bitter loneliness...

If I loved someone, I could never let him go away from me. I would be too miserable and lonely.

Sonetul c?tre Wer Preatrista mea numit? Wer Numai vederea te mai strânge. ?i-ai pus cuvântul meu cercel Dar to?i î?i mai vorbesc prin sânge! Ai tras prin tine un alt cer S? fiu un plâns f?r? ureche Prin? invizibil ?i stingher Vagabondând o lume veche. Preatrista mea numit? Wer Un vagabond singur e-un rege! (Prin reverii se arat? R sim?ind în cifra ? o lege!) Însingurat de-a nu fi cer Nu poate via?a-mi s? te nege.

Sonet c?tre Wer Preatrista mea numit? Wer Numai vederea te mai strânge. ?i-ai pus cuvântul meu cercel Dar to?i î?i mai vorbesc: prin sânge! Ai tras pe tine un alt cer S? fiu un plâns f?r? ureche Prin? invizibil ?i stingher Vagabondând o lume veche. (Prin reverii se arat? R sim?ind în cifra ? o lege!) Însingurat de-a nu fi cer Nu poate via?a-mi s? te nege. Preatrista mea numit? Wer Un vagabond singur e-un rege!

our day is a green apple cut in two i look at you you dont see me between us is the blind sun on the steps our torn embrace you call me i dont hear you between us is the deaf air in the shop windows my lips are seeking your smile at the crossroads our trampled kiss i have given you my hand you dont feel it emptiness has embraced you in the squares your tear is seekinng my eyes in the evening my day dead meets with your dead day only in sleep we walk the same paths

Pissenlit Au bord du trottoir Au bout du monde L'œil jaune de la solitude [Dandelion On the edge of the pavement At the end of the world The yellow eye of loneliness]

I danced frightening things. They were frightened of me and therefore thought that I wanted to kill them. I did not want to kill anyone. I loved everyone, but no one loved me, and therefore I became nervous.

She was not alone. There was Mr. Rochester with a candle, followed by a very mousy little governess by the name of Jane Eyre—ah, no, those were just the remnants of her dream;