Quotes About Loneliness

When I was living on my own, for a footballer it's easy to do the things that you're not supposed to, or not what the sport science team says. For example, if there's a packet of crisps, you're going to eat them. The same with a packet of sweets. Go to bed at a certain time? You're not going to if you're on your own.

Solitude is part of my life, and I don't mind that. I like it. I love it. I don't allow loneliness to be part of my life, let's put it that way. I really won't allow it. If I feel lonely, I phone somebody or I go for a walk or a swim, get the endorphins going, because I hate feeling lonely.

A lot of the time, when I swim, I close my eyes because it is definitely lonely.

Grief is only the memory of widowed affections.

I really like to please people, and I think it's a symptom of being an only child.

Loneliness and rootlessness are just symptoms of an insecurity that assails us all when hitting this midlife moment. The world appears intent on blanking you out.

There was definitely a period when I just felt out of sync with earth.

Nightlife is, to me, a little synthetic, a little desperate?

That's what happens when people take away their love, Bea. It makes you smaller. Sometimes, it makes you disappear.

That's what happens when people take away their love, Bea. It makes you smaller. Sometimes it makes you disappear" -Sheila

Most folks with a terrific sense of humor know that loneliness, anxiety, depression and comedy share a basement apartment in a sketchy neighborhood.

He'd need something to fill his lonely nights, because Molly sure as shooting wasn't interested in him any longer.

This is a quiet, frightened, insignificant old man who has been nothing all his life, who has never had recognition, his name in the newspapers. Nobody knows him, nobody quotes him, nobody seeks his advice after seventy-five years. That's a very sad thing, to be nothing. A man like this needs to be recognized, to be listened to, to be quoted just once. This is very important. It would be so hard for him to recede into the background ...

Before getting to my mother's house, I would always think of her on the porch or even on the street, sweeping. She had a light way of sweeping, as if removing the dirt were not as important as moving the broom over the ground. Her way of sweeping was symbolic; so airy, so fragile, with a broom she tried to sweep away all the horrors, all the loneliness, all the misery that had accompanied her all her life...

Loneliness doesn't come from missing someone it comes from being disconnected from yourself.

So it is to be another Christmas, then, and another New Year's on my own. Well, it is all right. I have grown used to it, have come almost to prefer it. Those days for most adults, it is generally acknowledged, and perhaps for all but the fewest children are so grim. Along with birthdays and of course Thanksgiving, only worse. Why observe them, then, unless one is for the sake of the children, or the office, or someone else's sake, obliged to. Well, no reason.

he writer has a grudge against society, which he documents with accounts of unsatisfying sex, unrealized ambition, unmitigated lo neliness, and a sense of local and global distress. The square, overpopulation, the bourgeois, the bomb and the cocktail party are variously identified as sources of the grudge. There follows a little obscenity here, a dash of philosophy there, considerable whining overall, and a modern satirical novel is born.

Andiamo a casa tua o all'Elaine's?» ha chiesto il ragazzo. Erano le tre del mattino. Aveva divorziato da poco. In quel momento la stessa domanda risuonava nei taxi di tutta New York.

I sit on my narrow bunk and caress my long yellow toenails and stare at my walls.

He knows when she passes, a grief will rip through him unlike anything he has ever known. Preparing for it doesn't help. He just knows it will come. It is like realizing you are sailing a boat across an ocean and soon you will find the other shore—it will be just you and acres of dry, blinding white sand. There may be trees on that island, and sun, and food, but none of it will feel or taste right, because you will stand there and realize: I am alone.

Deep in her secret heart, in the pure place she protects, she is afraid she will always be alone—that she will go through life without being known. And she will not survive that.

I walked until I was ensconced in darkness. Then I began to shout. I wanted a friend more than anything. I was beside myself.

Increasingly solitary, he saw his life as all that was left to him: a tattered sail that might bear the wind but would bring him to no haven.

He had retreated into a silent movie of his own making and I was watching from the anonymous remove of a theater seat. He was flickering, growing distant, fading like the '82 Latour.