Best 2736 quotes in «loneliness quotes» category

Hold me, Gerty, hold me, or I shall think of things.

Homer looked back at me. 'Pete, can I tell ya somethin' real important?' 'Sure, what is it?' I couldn't imagine what Homer was about to say. He sat down on a rounded rock. I sat down too. 'One thing I've learned is that ya never know what's gonna happen to ya in this old life. Everything can change, just like that.' He snapped his fingers, loud and fast. 'You never know what might happen to ya and that dawg ah yers. Ya know what you should do? You ought to settle down here ... On my mountain.' His words were coming quickly and eagerly. 'I'll teach ya all the ways of livin' up here, and someday when ya get a place built, you can have yerself a family.' Homer wasn't kidding me. 'And, besides, ya know I ain't gonna be here forever. When I leave, then you can take care of this place for me. You understand more than anyone why I love this place so much. I know ya wouldn't let them lumbermen and hunters come up here and hurt my place.' There was a shell around Homer and reaching his heart was like breaking a granite boulder with your bare hands. But now, Homer's heart was breaking. After he finished he turned away from me. When he turned back, his questioning eyes were teary. 'Homer, what you just said was beautiful.' I looked down at my boots and rolled a rock back and forth under my heel. 'But, I don't know. I'll have to give it some serious thought, okay?' As quickly as Homer had broken his stride and opened himself up, he was fast on his feet walking back up the mountain. He stayed as quiet as the king trees that he loved so much, never again saying a word to me about his amazing invitation.

Home. the word always had air quotes around it in her mind. She'd done what she could to make her flat cozy, filling it with art, books, ornate lanterns, and a Persian carpet as soft as lynx fur. And of course there were her angel wings taking up one whole wall. But there was no help for the real emptiness; its close air was stirred by no breath but her own. When she was alone, the empty place within her, the missingness, as she thought of it, seemed to swell. Even being with Kaz had done something to keep it at bay, though not enough. Never enough.

How, and when shall these things come to pass? wherefore are our years few and evil?

How are we any different? You and I are the same. How are we any different? We both share the same name. Is that anyway to live with those who we supposed to love? Is that anyway to live by building walls between you and me?

how can you imagine what particular region of the first ages a man's untrammelled feet may take him into by the way of solitude--utter solitude without a policeman--by the way of silence--utter silence, where no warning voice of a kind neighbour can be heard whispering of public opinion? These little things make all the great difference. When they are gone you must fall back upon your own innate strength, upon your own capacity for faithfulness

How do you explain to a child who likes everyone in the world that adult life consists to a great extent of cutting people away?

How easily such a thing can become a mania, how the most normal and sensible of women once this passion to be thin is upon them, can lose completely their sense of balance and proportion and spend years dealing with this madness.

However, I must admit that keeping myself to myself has not always been comforting. At times, I seemed to suffer spells of depression and loneliness, longing to become healthy again; of going out and facing a world of injustices, of misery, of widespread indifference.

How long can I be a wall, keeping the wind off? How long can I be Gentling the sun with the shade of my hand, Intercepting the blue bolts of a cold moon? The voices of loneliness, the voices of sorrow Lap at my back ineluctably. How shall it soften them, this little lullaby?

How Gloomy it is, to pause, to cease and to rust unburn, to get used and be indistinct. Like to live is to breathe.

How much do you trade to defeat lonesomeness?

How long you will live in your dreams? The time is now, it's better to go and follow them..

how much he loved being alone except when he didn't, except when it got to be too much?

How sad it was to realize that sometimes you never got there. That sometimes you lived a whole life skittering across the surface as the years passed, unblessed.

How should they know? I can't reveal to a single friend what my soul conceals, whom I'm in love with or what I believe - my dreams, my thoughts - or why I grieve.

How was it possible to be with someone and yet feel so utterly alone? How was it possible to be with someone as wonderful, warm and kind as Andrew and yet still wonder if love would ever find you?

Huh. Well you and I just disagree. Maybe the world just feels differently to us. This is all going back to something that isn't really clear: that avant-garde stuff is hard to read. I'm not defending it, I'm saying that stuff - this is gonna get very abstract - but there's a certain set of magical stuff that fiction can do for us. There's maybe thirteen things, of which who even knows which ones we can talk about. But one of them has to do with the sense of, the sense of capturing, capturing what the world feels like to us, in the sort of way that I think that a reader can tell "Another sensibility like mine exists." Something else feels this way to someone else. So that the reader feels less lonely.

I almost thought that marriage was a cure to loneliness, alas! so many are lonely inside marriage. Then I realized it is not marriage that takes the loneliness away, but when both within marriage honour God and the vows made before Him.

Alone in my room, I pondered the evidence. A perfect phrase. I would jot it down for future use. Like it or not, there are times when you need to be alone; times when you need to be lonely; times when you need to need other people.

I always come here when I can't sleep [. . .] every night.

I always pictured it a grand thing, the moment I would take off. Someone waving long after I was out of sight and some tune playing soft from somewhere I couldn’t see. I pictured it a clear line, some sort of sharp edge between before and after. But there is no such thing. You can take a U-turn where you’re walking on the pavement but people are just on their own ways home, and now you’re in their way. You keep walking against the tide and you think you’re doing something great but really you’re just pissing people off and when you finally get out on the open field where no directions exist, you find yourself lonely, not free, just a big, vast lonely world that surrounds you and you can go anywhere you please but suddenly you don’t want to go anywhere at all. You just want to go home. Back to your people.

I also often ask my guests about what they consider to be their invisible weaknesses and shortcomings. I do this because these are the characteristics that define us no less than our strengths. What we feel sets us apart from other people is often the thing that shapes us as individuals. This may be especially true of writers and actors, many of whom first started to develop their observational skills as a result of being sidelined from typical childhood or adolescent activities because of an infirmity or a feeling of not fitting in. Or so I’ve come to believe from talking to so many writers and actors over the years.

I always welcomed the comforting cloak of night except for the times when I lost something in it.

I am always alone, pretending to be someone else or lost in a vast emptiness. I miss life. I miss conversation and laughter and shared joy and hurt. I miss dancing and painting. I miss waking up to a day with no evil in it - at least, none that I can see.

I AM ALWAYS ALONE. BUT JUST NOW I WANT TO BE ALONE BY MYSELF.

I am devoid of genius that is why I can touch my nose with my tongue and prove that I am really a genius Sometimes while walking in front of Manik Bandyopadhyay's house I brood about the street on which he once walked I am also on the same road, but worthless, Falguni Ray walking, sometimes I travel in second class in trams and I imagine this was the tram that overran and crushed the body of Jibanananda Das This is the way I travel-- earth sun stars accompany me.

I am finding out gradually why I am so lonely. The only things I care about are things which use my brain. The women I meet are not so much interested and I do not meet many men, so there is an intellectual solitude which is like the solitude of the desert — dangerous to one's sanity.

I am happy to be alone. Perhaps this is true. Or perhaps I am the biggest coward of all.

I am isolated. I sit in a glass ball, I see people through a glass wall. I scream, but they do not hear me. - Ellen West

I am lonely here sometimes. I'm like the gate, swinging in the breeze when I long for someone to just secure the latch and stop me from flailing about

I am in Love with you, it’s me who is in love with you not you, I am in love with you. Not in a way I wanted to but yeah the way I am fond to Hey I am in love with you, not treating you like I wanted to but just being the one that thought of to yeah I am in love with you, Loving you was the secrete I wanted to keep and buried deep inside my emotional heap, Doing everything possible what I had to But baby it hurts as it hurts you too, but yeah still I am in love with you, Pulled myself million times because I got the wrong vibes all the time, But the truth remains the same baby hear me as I am in love with you, Waiting on you I could see people were laughing on me I knew all the while you weren't near me. But you should know that I am in love with you There were some days I missed you a lot and scared to tell you how i feel cold and hot for you as I am in love with you is the only dream And then I am in love with you I remember I have cried to sleep and bagged myself to keep you away from the highest steep the voice that said from within me I am in love with you Just I LOVE YOU was the only words I wanna hear from you even while knowing, you don’t mean to Because simply I feel the way I wanted to Loving to say I am in love with you. wake up in the morning with only you in my mind till I sleep at deep way in the night I know its all silly things for your kind but its perfect to me as clearly - deeply in love with you When you being nice to me that scares me sometimes but bottom in my heart it feels so nice because during that time I am in love with you, Doesn't matter whatever I do with you even things i have never done before and i enjoyed them all because simply as I am in love with you. In the first waiting on you was the favorite thing in my day weather it s a call or just a look from you from the farthest bay I asked myself why and the voice within me said that I am in love with you.

i am in need of a sudden Shift, Your crimson lips. screaming at my Lips. Let me hold down That candle, and look away from Your light, The sight of You, everlasting, Melting in on my eyes. I see Your lips dripping roses, bleeding need all the night, Let me embrace You with touch, Let me love You all the night. I crave the crimson of Your lips, till they burn me out all white, Kiss me Deep under the ocean, Of a never-ending fire.

I am lonely, yet not everybody will do. I don’t know why, some people fill the gaps and others emphasize my loneliness.

I am," I said To no one there An no one heard at all Not even the chair "I am," I cried "I am," said I And I am lost, and I can't even say why Leavin' me lonely still

I am not alone, in my aloneness.

I am not lonely, Mom," I snap. "I am alone. Those are different things.

I am never lonely when I am sharing [Christ] with others. There is a great exhilaration in talking to others about [Him].

I am not ascare to die. I am only ascare that after death I be alone. Maybe because of suicide, I go to the hell? If hell all hot and crowded and noiseful, like Christian minister on TV say, then I not care because it will be just like India. But if hell cold and quiet, with lot of snow and leaf-empty trees, and people who smile with string-thin lips, then I ascare. Because it seems so much like my life in Am'rica.

I am not forsaken! I'm no longer alone in the darkness! Before my eyes I see a thousand little devils lighting black candles along the path which leads toward the edge...the blindingly beautiful edge.

I am never lonely when I am praying, for this brings me into companionship with the greatest friend of all—Jesus Christ. He said, “I call you not servants; . . . but . . . friends” [John 15:15 KJV].

I am scared of this emptiness, pull me out of my body

I am sad because I love you, because I love you so much, and because I am not a bee to buzz with you lightly. I am not a flower, not a tree, not a rain-hewn stone. I am not a storm or a cresting wave, not a thorn or a vine. I am not the sun stinging the water, not the moon on the snow. I am not a star in the dark. I am not the dew-wet wind, not the cloud-stained dawn. I am only a girl, a small, plain girl, a girl who must smear her lips in honey to be found sweet.

I am taking this in, slowly, Taking it into my body. This grief. How slow The body is to realize You are never coming back.

I am so lost in the lost road , I chose this on my own , I emptied all that I had , All that I have left within , is emptiness - a void that refuses to fill. How can I be alone in a room ,filled with a million souls ? How can I stay hungry after feeding hundreds of homes ? How ? Is this the pain of letting go and raising towards transcendence - Where I leave all my worldly pleasures and seek union with the One ? -Or is it a bout of lucidity , that I am all by myself , carrying on , paying for the sins of others and living "BUT" for myself.... -an everyday stagmata where the pain is so numb, that the the body ceases to exist ?

I ask for tons of notebooks for my birthday, the ones with college ruled lines, and I carry them with me, pretend they're my friends, and write anything that comes to mind. Something about my stories makes me happy, allows me to drift away a bit.

I am vehemently grateful that, by whatever means, I learned to assume that loneliness should be in part pleasure, sensitizing and clarifying, and that it is even a truer bond among people than any kind of proximity.

I asked myself whether a life devoid of any affection, of any goal, a life one fills with a thousand trifles intended to relieve its monotony, populated with human beings one seeks out in order not to be alone and whom one flees to avoid being bored by them, whether such a life isn't ridiculous, whether anything whatsoever wouldn't be preferable.

I ask myself everyday what my life is doing to me and I realize I don't have anybody I can talk to." "You should have" said the Doctor "everybody should.

I bask in that sympathy because it's nice to have somebody who cares, even if it's the wrong person for the wrong reasons.