Quotes About Loneliness

I have always felt loneliest in the presence of other people—people I can't connect with, people I feel unseen by, people who make me feel insincere or uncomfortable. For me, loneliness comes from a sense of missing something. I never miss anything when I'm alone.

You are down there alone, the stars seemed to say to him. And we are up here, in our constellations, together.

There is a lot of love in him, a lot of love in his heart... And he is up there with no one and nothing to love. It is a bad thing to have love and no where to put it.

That squid is a villain, said Flora out loud. He needs to be vanquished. He's eating a boat. And he's going to eat all of the people on the boat. Yes, well, loneliness makes us do terrible things, said Dr. Meescham. And that is why the picture is there, to remind me of this. Also, because the other Dr. Meescham painted it when he was young and joyful. Good grief, thought Flora. What did he paint when he was old and depressed?

Flora's heart, the lonely, many-armed squid of it, flipped and flailed inside her.

Sometimes, it seemed like everybody in the world was lonely. I thought about my mama. Thinking about her was the same as the hole you keep on feeling with your tongue after you lose a tooth. Time after time, my mind kept going to that empty spot, the spot where i felt like she should be.

What is it to know that people will come searching for you? Everything.

I am alone in the world, Dolores, and I am homesick for my own kind.

Sometimes, it seemed like everybody in the world was lonely.

But, alas, he never really belonged in either place, the sad fate, I am afraid, of those whose hearts break and then mend in crooked ways.

I have been loved, Edward told the stars.

Mostly, he looked like a big piece of old brown carpet that had been left out in the rain.

Edward hung by his velvet ears and looked up at the night sky. He saw the stars. But for the first time in his life, he looked at them and felt no comfort. Instead, he felt mocked. You are down there alone, the stars seemed to say to him. And we are up here, in our constellations, together. I have been loved, Edward told the stars. So? said the stars. What difference does that make when you are all alone now? Edward could think of no answer to that question.

He thought about the stars. He remembered what they looked like from his bedroom window. What made them shine so brightly, he wondered, and were they still shining somewhere even though he could not see them? Never in my life, he thought, have I been farther away from the stars than I am now.

If you have not left your home in the middle of the night without even giving it a backward glance; if you have not left your cat and your friends and also a one-eyed dog named Buddy without getting to tell any of them good-bye; if you have not stood on the side of the road in Georgia, somewhere just past the irrevocable state line, and waited for someone to come along and give you a ride, well, then you cannot understand the desperation that was in my heart that day.

From the glass-topped table in the dining room, I could see over a field and into the woods. It was late afternoon, and the light was fading. Sometimes, when the light starts to fade, I get a terrible feeling of loneliness, like maybe I am the only person in the world.

I once had a teacher called Mrs McGregor who said that the world was turning very slowly on its axis. It is moving infinitesimally, said Mrs McGregor. Infinitesimally. [...] But here is the thing: it did not feel to me like the earth was moving infinitesimally. It felt like it was hurtling and jerking its way through a lonely darkness. To my way of thinking, you never knew when the earth was going to lurch and go somewhere entirely unexpected. There was nothing infinitesimal about it.

Three semis drove past us. One was painted with a picture of a cow standing in a field of green grass. I was jealous of that cow because she was at home and I was not. It seemed like a very sad thing to be jealous of a fake cow on the side of a truck.

How come you don't have a phone?" Rob shrugged. "Ain't got nobody to call

Flora's heart, the lonely, many-armed squid of it, flipped and flailed inside of her.

ONCE THERE WAS A PRINCESS WHO was very beautiful. She shone as bright as the stars on a moonless night. But what difference did it make that she was beautiful? None. No difference." "Why did it make no difference?" asked Abilene. "Because," said Pellegrina, "she was a princess who loved no one and cared nothing for love, even though there were many who loved her.

I have been loved, Edward told the stars. So? said the stars. What difference does that make when you are all alone now? Edward could think of no answer to that question.

Rob sat out on the curb in front of the motel room and waited for Sistine to come back from using the phone.

He had been so lonely, so desperately, hopelessly lonely for so long. He might very well spend the rest of his life in prison, alone. And he understood that what he wanted now was something much simpler, much more complicated than the magic he had performed. What he wanted was to turn to somebody and take hold of their hand and look up with them and marvel at the snow falling from the sky. "This," he wanted to say to someone he loved and who loved him in return. "This.