Quotes About Loneliness

I have been trying, for some time now, to find dignity in my loneliness. I have been finding this hard to do ... It is easier, of course, to find dignity in one's solitude. Loneliness is solitude with a problem.

It is easier, of course, to find dignity in one's solitude. Loneliness is solitude with a problem. Can blue solve the problem, or can it at least keep my company within it? --No, not exactly. It cannot love me that way; it has no arms. But sometimes I do feel its presence to be a sort of wink -- Here you are again, it says, and so am I.

72. It is easier, of course, to find dignity in one's solitude. Loneliness is solitude with a problem. Can blue solve the problem, or can it at least keep me company within it?—No, not exactly. It cannot love me that way; it has no arms. But sometimes I do feel its presence to be a sort of wink—Here you are again, it says, and so am I.

It it easier, of course, to find dignity in one's solitude. Loneliness is solitude with a problem. Can blue solve the problem, or can it at least keep my company within it? - No, not exactly. It cannot love me that way; it has no arms. But sometimes I do feel its presence to be a sort of wink - Here you are again, and so am I.

I am getting the bad feeling that my friends are growing tired of me. I am growing tired of me, too.

I felt the wild need for any or all of these people that night. Lying there alone, I began to feel - perhaps even to know - that I did not exist apart from their love and need of me. Of this latter I felt less sure, but it seemed possible, if the equation worked both ways. Falling asleep I thought, 'Maybe this, for me, is the hand of God.

I have been trying, for some time now, to find dignity in my loneliness. I have been finding this hard to do. 72. It is easier, of course, to find dignity in one's solitude. Loneliness is solitude with a problem.

I admit that I may have been lonely. I know that loneliness can produce bolts of hot pain, a pain which, if it stays hot enough for long enough, can begin to simulate, or to provoke -- take your pick -- an apprehension of the divine. (This ought to arouse our suspicions.)

I have been trying, for some time now, to find dignity in my loneliness. I have finding this hard to do. It easier, of course, to find dignity in one's solitude. Loneliness is solitude with a problem. Can blue solve the problem, or can it at least keep me company within it? -No, not exactly. It cannot love me that way; it has no arms. But sometimes I do feel its presence to be a sort of wink -Here you are again, it says, and so am I.

She sits there and feels the loneliness and the lack of him

All I was aware of was this hole, this gaping hole where my heart should have been. I read somewhere once that your heart is supposed to be the same size as your clenched fist, but this hole felt far bigger. It seemed to expand over my whole upper body and it felt cold, vacant - the cooling wind seemed to cut right through it. I felt frail and insubstantial, as if the wind could have blown me away.

Eliza doesn't say that she worries about Anne, all alone, so young, without her, wherever she may be. That for a long time she lay awake at night, whispering her name, just in case she was listening, from wherever she was, in case the sound of Eliza's voice was a comfort to her. The pain of wondering if Anne was distressed somewhere and that she, Eliza, was unable to hear her, unable to reach her.

In an odd way, we no longer seemed like a family, just a collection of people living in different rooms.

Partings are strange. It seems so simple: one minute ago, four, five, he was here, at her side; now, he is gone. She was with him; she is alone.

That had done it. Esme had turned at that one. She had snatched up the protractor of Catriona McFarlane, high priestess of the tittering club, and pointed it at her like a divining rod. 'You know what you are, Catriona McFarlane?' Esme had said. 'You are a sad creature. You are mean-spirited, soulless. You are going to die alone and lonely. Do you hear me?

He feels as though he is caught in a web of absence, its strings and tendrils ready to stick and cling to him, whichever way he turns.

When she first came to New York she knew no one. She arrived in a rush, like someone who trips when they enter a room.

Lonely is better than used, Brigit. Besides, who the hell is there to trust? Who do you suggest I start with?

Maybe the moon is beautiful only because it is far.

I used to invent love when necessary. When I walked alone on the riverbank. Or whenever the level of salt would rise in my body, I would invent the river.

The long road has drained me of all feelings and expectations. I don't feel a thing or expect anything now.

Grandfather! I am the last of the living in this desert.

At the simplicity of the gesture, he felt a pang: the raw nerve of his loneliness exposed.

No human being, particularly a young, attractive woman, is so alone that there is no one to miss her when she disappears.