Best 2736 quotes in «loneliness quotes» category

Something happens when you are alone most of the time, when there are no distractions. Your mind grows more powerful--muscular, even. It takes over and starts to carry you.

sometime am feeling proud to have ma loneliness but, sometime am so feeling lonely.

sometimes all we need to be able to continue alone are the dead rattling the walls that close us in.

Sometimes Emily was so lonely that it was like being invisible.

Sometimes failing is what's needed. I think it can put people in a good mood, to see someone fail. Let people entertain themselves. I think that's one of the reasons people are so lonely in this country. Because they always have to rush out and have someone else in the room entertain them. It's terrible, the loneliness here. People live in coffins...

Sometimes even a "Yes" can be fatal for our Souls

Sometimes being surronded by everyone is the loneliest, because you'll realise you have no one to turn to.

Sometimes he felt his loneliness. But these moments of solitude and loneliness gave meaning to his existence. He would keep drifting from moment to moment - inhaling the fragrances of these moments as one inhaled from the flowers in a garden.

Sometimes he felt his loneliness. But these moments of solitude and loneliness gave meaning to his existence.

Sometimes I feel as if I'm racing with my own shadow

Sometimes he wonders whether this very idea of loneliness is something he would feel at all had he not been awakened to the fact that he should be feeling lonely, that there is something strange and unacceptable about the life he has. Always, there are people asking him if he misses what it had never occurred to him to want, never occurred to him he might have . . . Some of them ask him with pity, and some ask him with suspicion: the first group feels sorry for him because they assume singledom is not his decision but a state imposed upon him; and the second group feels a kind of hostility for him, because they think that his singlehood is his decision, a defiant violation of a fundamental law of adulthood.

Sometimes I feel that I could stand in the middle of the square and scream and thrash about like a wildling, and no one would notice.

Sometimes he felt his loneliness. But these moments of solitude and loneliness gave meaning to his existence. He would keep drifting from moment to moment - inhaling the fragrances of these moments like one inhaled from the flowers in a garden!

Sometimes I felt so alone that I wish there were a bigger, longer word for alone. I tried to tell Grandma about this feeling, about my suspicion that life was nicking away pieces of me.

Sometimes in utter hopelessness I put my cheek on the table like it was someone. I wanted to wake my brain up and be loved.

Sometimes it can be as brutally overwhelming as a tidal wave flooding every orifice, the suffocation, the pressure, the immensity of this damnable depression like an ocean, unsurmountable. It swallows me whole and gnaws at my very bones. It floods me over and over, drowning me over and over... It is a torturous broken record player with a scratched disc on repeat, the wailing disrupting any possible good remaining after the tsunami. It wails and wails inside my ribcage and inside my skull. I cannot make it stop.

Sometimes I think that my own company is more suitable for me than if I were around others. Because of the person that I am.

Sometimes I think, What a man gonna do with all this media publicity, Photos in newspapers, photography in and among the industry, references and contacts when he cannot help a friend, when he has no family life, and not Even a dog to welcome him after work hours!

Sometimes I think the loneliness inside of me is going to explode through my skin and sometimes im not sure if crying or screaming or laughing through the hysteria will solve anything at all

Sometimes it was hard to breathe, knowing how small my world could be. Maybe in San Francisco it wouldn't feel like the universe was conspiring to keep me in a bubble.

Sometimes I wake up and lie still enough to hear a petal drop from the vase of flowers. Sometimes I lie awake and wish there was someone to hear my falling.

Sometimes life is like living in a chamber of Liquid Oxygen. Liquid don't allow you to live and Oxygen don't let you die.

Sometimes one needs to stay alone, a little bit of time in loneliness gives you the opportunity to knock on the door to your brain, and it opens to a sudden bright idea. But those who never stay alone don't even know what's inside their brains.

Sometimes the loneliness had been almost too much, he thought, and always at those times he had found comfort in the woods, where he said nothing. He wondered if the others were still gloomy; no one spoke of it any longer. He smiled as he thought of how the women had wet and screamed and straddle behind him, I want to run to catch up once more.

Sometimes she heard night-sounds she didn’t know or jumped from lightning too close, but whenever she stumbled, it was the land who caught her. Until at last, at some unclaimed moment, the heart-pain seeped away like water into sand. Still there, but deep. Kya laid her hand upon the breathing, wet earth, and the marsh became her mother.

Sometimes the man of your dream only belongs in your dream.

Sometimes the rain falls just for you and me to be the violin playing in the background of our loneliness's song.

Sometimes the word ‘Desire’ may leave you in a tizzy. Many of us are banking on this word to drive our life forward. These ‘Desires’ may be the single factor that guide and enrich your life. But, there’s a trap. Surgeon Atul Gawande puts it like this in his book ‘Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End, “When we have only our desires to guide us, and they are fleeting, capricious, and insatiable, they provide, ultimately, only torment.” So beware of ‘Desires’. You need to redefine it in a way that makes your life to be endurable.

Sometimes the silence is the loudest thing in the room.

Sometimes the sound of silence is the most deafening sound of all.

Sometimes we don't need to eat or drink as much as we do, but it has become a kind of addiction. We feel so lonely. Loneliness is one of the afflictions of modern life. It is similar to the Third and Fourth Precpets--we feel lonely, so we engage in conversation, or even in a sexual relationship, hoping that the feeling of loneliness will go away. Drinking and eating can also be the result of loneliness. You want to drink or overeat in order to forget your loneliness, but what you eat may bring toxins into your body. When you are lonely, you open the refrigerator, watch TV, read magazines or novels, or pick up the telephone to talk. But unmindful consumption always makes things worse (68).

sometimes we are so lonely that we are more ready to fall in love with the concept of a person than the person in itself. Some people are thirsty for life, while others are hungry for love - and a girl who travels will know that there have been people who have fallen in love with her for the wrong reasons

Sometimes, when I had to be alone, was when I was the loneliest. There are times people or events put others in a place where they have no one. Not a single friend or family member who is there for them. They want to reach out for help, they long for it, but there is no one there. Just an empty void, a constant reminder of how isolated you are.

Sometimes we want to unbelong as much as we want to belong.

Sometimes, when the light starts to fade, I get a terrible feeling of loneliness, like maybe I am the only person in the world.

Sometimes you feel alone because, like you, others aren't so ready to confess their shortcomings and struggles.

Sometimes while waiting for God's promises to come to pass, we messed up things and go into so many troubles, but God’s mercy has never failed in bringing us out of them all.

Sometimes you have to enjoy your loneliness!

Sometimes you just need to train your self to be alone, so that in the end, whenever they leave you, you'll be brave enough to face your fears and tears.

Some writers say they find the writing process lonely. I don't. Yes, it's solitary but when you can escape into a world of your own making in the company of potentially great characters, you're not aware you're alone.

So now the sky was falling. Maybe the end of the world. Maybe Jesus coming again. That suited her. White lights shot across the sky. She lost count. She stood and watched through Sidney's telescope and felt. For the first time in a year she wasn't ice cold all the way to her soul. It was as close as she could be to free in her stronghold of a home. Logic told her that the world probably wasn't coming to an end. That would be too easy. She hadn't had an easy day in her life. She pulled the telescope away from her eye and watched white slices of heavenly light. Content with the goosebumps of fear, her spirits rose. Assuming the world wasn't ending, she'd come to a good place out here. Her children were safe. She was safe-- bitterly lonely but safe.

So now it’s this thing I do. I go away, ever so often, by myself, for myself, to new places with foreign streets I haven’t walked yet, and there I wander, up and down, watching people going places I don’t know and it always hits me that they’re never alone, always with someone, and I wonder how they would spend a day all on their own in a foreign city with nothing to do and no one to see, and I wonder if they’d be happy. Just simply being free, like I am trying to be. Happy. Just simply being me.

So often like this, in lonely places in the forest, he would come upon something--bird, flower, tree--beautiful beyond all words, if there had been a soul with whom to share it. Beauty is meaningless until it is shared.

Soon enough the tears came but of course nobody came down to see if she was all right, it was just the slut in the kitchen who'd ruined their lives, getting drunk of neat gin and howling for her lost lunatic offer.

So remember those who win the game Lose the love they sought to gain In debitures of quality and dubious integrity Their small-town eyes will gape at you In dull surprise when payment due Exceeds accounts received at seventeen

Sooner or later people are definitely going to give up if you don't give them back as much as they're giving you.

So that you will hear me my words sometimes grow thin as the tracks of the gulls on the beaches. Necklace, drunken bell for your hands smooth as grapes. And I watch my words from a long way off. They are more yours than mine. They climb on my old suffering like ivy. It climbs the same way on damp walls. You are to blame for this cruel sport. They are fleeing from my dark lair. You fill everything, you fill everything. Before you they peopled the solitude that you occupy, and they are more used to my sadness than you are. Now I want them to say what I want to say to you to make you hear as I want you to hear me. The wind of anguish still hauls on them as usual. Sometimes hurricanes of dreams still knock them over. You listen to other voices in my painful voice. Lament of old mouths, blood of old supplications. Love me, companion. Don't forsake me. Follow me. Follow me, companion, on this wave of anguish. But my words become stained with your love. You occupy everything, you occupy everything. I am making them into an endless necklace for your white hands, smooth as grapes.

So this blessing of loneliness was not really loneliness. Real loneliness was something unendurable. What one wanted when exhausted by the noise and impact of physical bodies was not no people but disembodied people; all those denizens of beloved books who could be taken to one's heart and put away again, in silence, and with no hurt feelings.

Spending some time alone is a therapy that most of us don’t know how to practice. You need a little time alone every now and then to know what you are made of, to know and to do what you really like and to actually like yourself.

Speech failures, communication breakdowns, misunderstandings, mishearings, episodes of muteness, stuttering and stammering, word forgetfulness, even the inability to grasp a joke: all these things invoke loneliness, forcing a reminder of the precarious, imperfect means by which we express our interiors to others. They undermine our footing in the social, casting us as outsiders, poor or non-participants.