Quotes About Disconnection

Nobody cared if he lived or died, and the feeling was fucking mutual.

This is how it is with insomnia. Everything is so far away, a copy of a copy of a copy. The insomnia distance of everything, you can't touch anything and nothing can touch you.

I am Jack's inflamed sense of rejection

Tyler said he was nobody. Nobody cared if he lived or died, and the feeling was fucking mutual.

Somewhere, years ago, she had stepped off the path of life and could no longer find her way back to the family of people.

She did not know. She did not mind...She had a sense of being past everything, through everything, out of everything...-and one could be in it, or one could be out of it, and she was out of it.

She put on her lace collar. She put on her new hat and he never noticed; and he was happy without her.

Beautiful,' [his wife] would murmur, nudging Septimus that he might see. But beauty was behind a pane of glass. Even taste had no relish to him. He put down his cup on the little marble table. He looked at people outside; happy they seemed, collecting in the middle of the street, shouting, laughing, squabbling over nothing. But he could not taste, he could not feel. In the tea-shop among the tables and the chattering waiters the appalling fear came over him--he could not feel.

Humbert Humbert: You know, I've missed you terribly. Lolita Haze: I haven't missed you. In fact, I've been revoltingly unfaithful to you. Humbert Humbert: Oh? Lolita Haze: But it doesn't matter a bit, because you've stopped caring anyway. Humbert Humbert: What makes you say I've stopped caring for you? Lolita Haze: Well, you haven't even kissed me yet, have you?

Information is alienated experience.

I couldn't reach her. I was never able to reach her. Maybe she moved at a pace too fast. Maybe she was too sad. She held herself stiff, a lacquered lady. I think because I couldn't feel her, I couldn't feel myself.

As a result of the earliest trauma, individuals with the Connection Survival Style have disconnected from their bodies, from themselves, and from relationship. Connection types have two seemingly different coping styles or subtypes: the thinking and the spiritualizing subtypes.

The parental units take no notice of me as I make my leave. They are too busy having a discussion.

Somewhere out there, you knew, wealthy people were barricaded in their fortresses, fed and warm, if not happy, but soon you stopped thinking of them. You stopped thinking about other people at all.

Dinnertime comes and goes, but none of them can imagine eating. It seems like something only people in films do, something lovely and decorative, that whole act of raising a fork to your mouth. Some kind of purposeless ceremony.

Five years, a year, even six months earlier, Lydia would have found sympathy in her brother's eyes. I know. I know. Confirmation and consolation in a single blink. This time Nath, immersed in a library book, did not notice Lydia's clenched fingers, the sudden red that rimmed her eyes. Dreaming of his future, he no longer heard all the things she did not say.

Ruffian or devil, black as hell or bright as angels, thenceforth he was nothing to me.

I care for no man on earth, and no man on earth cares for me.

Copperfield,' he said at length, in a breathless voice, 'have you taken leave of your senses?' 'I have taken leave of you,' said I, wresting my hand away. 'You dog, I'll know no more of you.

The shopping centre was busy, and there was a long line at O'Briens' counter, but despite the noise and the music she somehow felt isolated.

They weren't quite in their teens, yet their faces had the early trappings of apathy.

What I had was more than anyone could ask for, but I couldn't figure out how to inhabit it again. From 'Or She Dies'.

Suspended in grief, I'd come unmoored from my senses. From 'Or She Dies'.

The women laugh a little. I do too. Though I'm only mimicking their laughter. Nothing is funny to me.