Quotes About Loneliness

want out. No one will ever love me, I will live and die alone, I will go nowhere fast, I will be nothing at all. Nothing will work out. The promise that on the other side of depression lies a beautiful life, one worth surviving suicide for, will have turned out wrong. It will all be a big dupe.

Alone again, Beverly relaxed somewhat. It was hard to believe that life could get any worse than this. More than once lately, she had thought about killing herself, erasing the fact that she had ever existed. It would be so easy, so—except that she wouldn't. She didn't respect people who committed suicide.

What is it about men that makes women so lonely?

more impenetrable solitudes

I am a stranger in a world I never made

And though the pack in every direction appeared to stretch in endless desolation

In some ways they had come to know themselves better. In this lonely world of ice and emptiness, they had achieved at least a limited kind of contentment. They had been tested and found not wanting.

But what am I?An infant crying in the night:An infant crying for the light:And with no language but a cry.

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;Close to the sun in lonely lands,Ring'd with the azure world he stands.The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;He watches from his mountain walls,And like a thunderbolt he falls.

The dusk rapidly deepened; the glades grew dark; the crackling of the fire and the wash of little waves along the rocky lake shore were the only sounds audible. The wind had dropped with the sun, and in all that vast world of branches nothing stirred. Any moment, it seemed, the woodland gods, who are to be worshipped in silence and loneliness, might stretch their mighty and terrific outlines among the trees.

The bleak splendors of these remote and lonely forests rather overwhelmed him with the sense of his own littleness. That stern quality of the tangled backwoods which can only be described as merciless and terrible, rose out of these far blue woods swimming upon the horizon, and revealed itself. He understood the silent warning. He realized his own utter helplessness.

I wish I were not quite so lonely—and so poor. And yet I love both my loneliness and my poverty. The former makes me appreciate the companionship of the wind and rain, while the latter preserves my liver and prevents me wasting time in dancing attendance upon women.

She might be a protector, but she was not a real companion; and he knew that somewhere or other he had left a lot of other real companions whom he now missed dreadfully.

He was deeply susceptible, moreover, to that singular spell which the wilderness lays upon certain lonely natures, and he loved the wild solitudes with a kind of romantic passion that amounted almost to an obsession. The life of the backwoods fascinated him—whence, doubtless, his surpassing efficiency in dealing with their mysteries

The loneliness of the place had entered our very bones, and silence seemed natural, for after a bit the sound of our voices became a trifle unreal and forced; whispering would have been the fitting mode of communication, I felt, and the human voice, always rather absurd amid the roar of the elements, now carried with it something almost illegitimate. It was like talking out loud in church, or in some place where it was not lawful, perhaps not quite safe, to be overheard.

For the worst is this after all; if they knew me, not a soul upon earth would pity me.

Lack of friends means, stranger in one's own country.

No one remembering that old man. Except, I just did, there

An idiolect. That's what he is, a language no one else alive in the world speaks. He is the last living speaker of himself. He's been too blithe, he'd forgotten for a whole train journey, for almost a whole day, that he himself is dead as a disappeared grammar, a graveyard scatter of phonemes and morphemes.

Ell somriu. Es una noia amable, encantadora i intel·ligent, tot i que ja no és tan espavilada com quan era petita. Això, de vegades, l'entristeix. Fa una mena de feina que se li menja l'esperit. Està molt sola. Això segur. És com observar com es va erosionant.

But now it was as if such simplicity had, without him even noticing it happening, grown very small and far away and him on the deck of an old ocean liner heading towards rough sea and waving like a madman back at a shore which, like a time when there'd been a steady kind of joy in something like the simplicity of a lemon, had disappeared, vanished completely, was no longer visible to the eye. Is no longer. Loser.

Maybe it's easier to talk to someone who won't ever actually hear what you say.

When Johnnie went to France. Such a tame ending To a great romance-- Two lonely women With nothing much to do But get to know each other; She did and I did, too. Mornings at the Rectory, Learning how to roll Bandages, and always Saving light and coal. Oh, that house was bitter As winter closed in, In spite of heavy stockings And woolen next the skin. I was cold and wretched, And never unaware Of John more cold and wretched In a trench out there.

My grief was cold. It was nothing to share. It was nothing to speak about, nothing to feel.