Quotes About Loneliness

Yo no sé de pájaros, no conozco la historia del fuego. Pero creo que mi soledad debería tener alas.

Enseguida el niño comprueba que ha sucedido algo mucho más terrible que los fantasmas sin forma que venían atormentándolo: en un segundo, su vida ha transcurrido en su casi totalidad. Sus padres están muertos hace mucho. La casa es otra. Nadie escucha su llanto.

Soledad es no saber estar consigo mismo.»

She was beautiful; my breath was taken; we were still lonely; she said yes.

Lord, why did you leave me in these woods?

The sad fact of life was that there were no cruising spots for heterosexual men. If there were, Joshua would be parked somewhere every day of his life, willing to sleep with any woman generous enough to pull up alongside him.

I've lived to bury my desires and see my dreams corrode with rust now all that's left are fruitless fires that burn my empty heart to dust. Struck by the clouds of cruel fate My crown of Summer bloom is sere Alone and sad, I watch and wait And wonder if the end is near. As conquered by the last cold air When Winter whistles in the wind Alone upon a branch that's bare A trembling leaf is left behind.

Still, as I watch the sun journey higher up on the horizon, I appreciate that, for only the second time in my entire life, I am alone, blessedly alone, with no one to tell me what to do or what to wear, no one to have to be polite to. Nothing. But I do not wish to be alone, not entirely. Now that I am finally alone, it feels...lonely.

It would be so great to have someone my own age to talk to, even if it was just about books.

I knew something about loneliness, knew what it was to sit in my room, checking my phone for texts that never came, logging onto Facebook to see other people's statuses, happy statuses indicating their lives had gone on while mine hadn't.

I inhaled again. Probably better to dream. The rest of the night, I took tickets and picked up discarded cups and tried not to pay attention to Kyle laughing, Kyle talking, Kyle being crowned dance royalty. I mean, it's too pathetic to be stalking the popular guy. But I enjoyed watching him. He was so opposite the way I was, so full of life and energy, and yet, I knew he and I were alike deep down. Deep down, we were both lonely. He was just better at hiding it.

I'm starting to loose touch with reality, but reality sort of sucks.

You shouldn't miss people who don't miss you...

Being alone could sometimes feel terribly empty...

I don't know. I got nothing. No house, no people, no place. Maybe that's troubles. Don't I say?

Being a child was not fun for me.

Christ's other source of consolation in prospect of death is the approval of His Father: "I am not alone, because the Father is with me." The Father has been with Him all along. On three critical occasions--at the baptism, on the hill of transfiguration, in the temple a few days ago--the Father had encouraged Him with an approving voice.

Among the uneducated (which frankly you would call the general population where I live) the serious reader is a lonely person. He goes about among the crowds with his thoughts stuffed inside him. He probably dare not even mention them to his nearest pals for fear of being thought a schmo. There's a hunger in his eyes for someone to talk to.

Here lies … /Who did nothing/Went nowhere/Was loved by nobody.

One simile that solitary shinesIn the dry desert of a thousand lines.

I have outlasted all desire, My dreams and I have grown apart; My grief alone is left entire, The gleamings of an empty heart. The storms of ruthless dispensation Have struck my flowery garland numb, I live in lonely desolation And wonder when my end will come. Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted By tardy winter's whistling chill, A single leaf which has outlasted Its season will be trembling still.

I have outlasted all desire, My dreams and I have grown apart; My grief alone is left entire, The gleamings of an empty heart. The storms of ruthless dispensation Have struck my flowery garland numb, I live in lonely desolation And wonder when my end will come. Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted By tardy winter's whistling chill, A single leaf which has outlasted Its season will be trembling still.

Creatures of clay, vain dwellers in the dust, lonely, we roam like the cloud, the wind, the wave, and all we see is a shadow of things unseen, and time that comes to flee Is but the broken echo of a rhyme In heart's great epic of Eternity.

Love, a little church that standing all alone, waits with open doors, but nobody goes there to pray, the prayers will go unsaid, now, where to go? which way? love, be my beacon, teach me to look at an empty sky without fear.