Quotes About Alienation

There is no loneliness like the loneliness of a stranger in a strange city.

City life is millions of people being lonesome together.

As Jewish historian Yuri Slezkine noted, modernity has turned us all into Jews. ("The Jewish Century," 2004.) Modernism is the dysfunction that results from making oneself God. Modern man is the Jew, the heretic, the anti-hero, alienated from God, society and paradoxically himself. He lives in a self-created reality divorced from truth.

The tragedy of it is that nobody sees the look of desperation on my face. Thousands and thousands of us, and we're passing one another without a look of recognition.

Topographically the country is magnificent -- and terrifying. Why terrifying? Because nowhere else in the world is the divorce between man and nature so complete. Nowhere have I encountered such a dull, monotonous fabric of life as here in America. Here boredom reaches its peak.

Sometimes I would get invited to a party or to go out to dinner by one of them and I would decline. Part of me wanted to go, but those kind of outings always made me feel even more alienated than usual. Hearing them talk made me feel lonely and hateful at the same time. Lonely because I didn't fit in, never did. When I was reminded, it hurt. And hateful because it reaffirmed what I already knew, that I was alone and on the outside.

I feel like a visitor that got left behind by his ride.

Too sick and freaked out not to want a bullet for every passer by, too sick and freaked out to breathe, too sick and freaked out to care, too sick and freaked out to think of anything but the annihilation of my mind and denial of my life. So sick and freaked out that I think everyone is my friend.

I am a broken man Washed ashore in humanity's Low tide Dislocated I feel no kinship with humans I do my best To forget myself

Once you have been on the outside, a part of you will always be out there.

Yes, there is something in me hateful, repulsive," thought Ljewin, as he came away from the Schtscherbazkijs', and walked in the direction of his brother's lodgings. "And I don't get on with other people. Pride, they say. No, I have no pride. If I had any pride, I should not have put myself in such a position".

And I, too, am the same… only there is no love in my heart, or desire for love, no interest in work, not contentment in myself. And how remote and impossible my old religious enthusiasms seem now… and my former abounding life! What once seemed so plain and right – that happiness lay in living for others – is unintelligible now. Why live for others, when life has not attractions even for oneself?

Yes, would have been,' he said sadly. 'He's precisely one of those people of whom they say that they're not meant for this world.

He looked at people as if they were things. A nervous young man across from him...came to hate him for that look. The young man lit a cigarette from his, tried talking to him, and even jostled him, to let him feel that he was not a thing but a human being, but Vronsky went on looking at him as at a lampost, and the young man grimaced, feeling that he was losing his self-possession under the pressure of this non-recognition of himself as a human being...

To me you are detestable, disgusting—a stranger, yes, a perfect stranger!' She uttered that word stranger, so terrible to herself, with anguish and hatred.

Yaln?zca, e?ler aras?nda bildik o seyrek sevgi dakikalar? kalm??t?, onlar da uzun sürmüyordu. Bir süreli?ine mola verdikleri küçük adac?klard? bunlar. Sonra birbirine yabanc?la?man?n gizlenmi? dü?manl??? denizine aç?l?yorlard? yeniden.

Everything presents itself to me, in the coarsest, most loathsome light.

I bite my lip. I buy what I'm told: From the latest hit, To the wisdom of old. But I'm always alone. And my heart is like ice. And it's crowded and cold In my secret life.

Yes, I do read books but only for one purpose: to learn how to hate man and to hold him in contempt.

Treated by his own people as one of them yet not one of them, he couldn't help but be aware of the contradictions inherent in a society that was supposed to be his, but seemed to have no place for him.

That's when I began passing as a man. Strange to be exiled from your own sex to borders that will never be home.

I feel like a ghost, Edna. Like I've been buried alive. As far as the world's concerned, I was born the day I began to pass. I have no past, no loved ones, no memories, no me. No one really sees me or speaks to me or touches me.

Strange to be exiled from your own sex to borders that will never be home

Then they grow away from the earth then they grow away from the sun then they grow away from the plants and animals. They see no life When they look they see only objects. The world is a dead thing for them the trees and rivers are not alive