Best 2736 quotes in «loneliness quotes» category

When you are a long way from where you think you belong, you will attach yourself to people you would otherwise ignore or even dislike.

When you are stressed and challenged by hardships just smile through it as frowning won’t help in changing the situation

When you are young, you think it's going to be solved by love. But it never is. Being close -- as close as you can get -- to another person only makes clear that impassable distance between you." […] "I don't know. If being in love only made people more lonely, why would everyone want it so much?" "Because of the illusion. You fall in love, it's intoxicating, and for a little while you feel like you've actually become one with the other person. Merged souls, and so on. You thing you'll never be lonely again. Only it doesn't last and soon you realize you can only get so close, and you end up brutally disappointed, more alone that ever, because the illusion - the hope you'd held on to all those years - has been shattered." […] "But see, the incredible thing about people is that we forget." Ray continued. "Time passes and somehow the hope creeps back and sooner or later someone else comes along and we think this is the one. And the whole thing starts all over again. We go through our lives like that, and either we just accept the lesser relationship - it may not be total understanding, but it's pretty good - or we keep trying for that perfect union, trying and failing, leaving behind us a trail of broken hearts, our own included. In the end, we die as alone as we were born, having struggled to understand others, to make ourselves understood, but having failed in what we once imagined was possible.

When you fill a void, isn't the void still there?

When you get to be my age, you’ll understand how I feel. How much loneliness the truth can cause sometimes.

…when you lonely is the best time to pray, to speak to the Lord, and most important, to listen to the Lord…

When you read a book and its words agree with what you think, your view of the world or your feelings at the time, you discover that there are people out there that think like you. That takes away a feeling of loneliness.

When you’re accustomed to loneliness, you become in tune with the rhythms of yourself and your own mind—because you always have to answer yourself at the end of the day, to be alone with your thoughts. You’ll also know how important self-love and reliance is, to love yourself before you love someone else, but I think the universality of loneliness teaches us what that love is. To be lonely is to be human, to feel pain, to be forced to know yourself—and the universality of it binds us. Love is embracing that universality and surrendering to it. It’s looking out at a lonely universe and knowing it’s fabric makes you who you are.

When you realize you don’t matter, the world becomes inconsequential and claustrophobic. You feel trapped inside your body, and your mind. Nothing can take you out of desperation, unless they take the brunt of your loneliness and make it their own.

when you're young a pair of female high-heeled shoes just sitting alone in the closet can fire your bones; when you're old it's just a pair of shoes without anybody in them and just as well.

When you're young, you think it's going to be solved by love. But it never is. Being close-as close as you can get-to another person only makes it clear the impassable distance between you.

When you're sad, everything sad builds up. The most painfully truthful thoughts arise, uninvited and unforgiving. The brain, a devoted soldier, always successful, somehow manages to rapidly search its host's darkness. There is no escape to what is next. First, all the buried thoughts you locked in a gloomy chest are released. Second, you begin crying over what you never wanted to admit. Suddenly, you begin to cry over things you did not even know actually deeply hurt you. And sometimes, the wet physicalization of your sorrow isn't enough. Instead, a violent madness stirs in your chest and your head is polluted with a red so angry, your jaw opens to fill the earth with a scream so rare you lose a little of yourself. Your roaring voice trails in pieces, like bullet fragments in flesh, to complete the song that is Loss.

when your emotions are in motion, take a break and ponder!

When your insides are like skinned knees and curdled milk, you gotta learn how to feel better all by your lonesome, without pills or games or anything like that, or else those bad feelings will just keep coming back.

When you want to be alone, even few people around you will seem like a tremendous crowd to you!

Where a people prays, there is the hurch; and where the church is; there is never loneliness.

Where are the men?” the little prince at last took up the conversation again. “It is a little lonely in the desert. . . ” “It is also lonely among men,” the snake said.

Wherefore the present age is given up as a reproach to the heathen, and for what cause the people whom thou hast loved is given over unto ungodly nations?!

Whether Neil left today or tomorrow or next week, he'd leave alone. Two, five, ten years from now, if Neil was even still alive, he'd still be alone. He could be anyone, anywhere in the world, but he'd be alone until the day he died. He'd never trust anyone enough to let them in.

Wherever you go in the next catastrophé Be it sickroom, or prison, or cemet’ry Do not fear that your stay will be solit’ry Countless souls share your fate, you’ll have company!

Who am I? They often tell me I would step from my cell's confinement calmly, cheerfully, firmly, like a squire from his country-house. Who am I? They often tell me I would talk to my warden freely and friendly and clearly, as though it were mine to command. Who am I? They also tell me I would bear the days of misfortune equably, smilingly, proudly, like one accustomed to win. Am I then really all that which other men tell of, or am I only what I know of myself, restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage, struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat, yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds, thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness, trembling with anger at despotisms and petty humiliation, tossing in expectation of great events, powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance, weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making, faint and ready to say farewell to it all. Who am I? This or the other? Am I one person today, and tomorrow another? Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others, and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling? Or is something within me still like a beaten army, fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved? Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine. Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!

Who, if I cried, would hear me among the angelic orders? And even if one of them suddenly pressed me against his heart, I should fade in the strength of his stronger existence. For beauty's nothing but the beginning of terror we're still just able to bear.

Why aren't you in school? I see you every day wandering around." "Oh, they don't miss me," she said. "I'm antisocial, they say. I don't mix. It's so strange. I'm very social indeed. It all depends on what you mean by social, doesn't it? Social to me means talking to you about things like this." She rattled some chestnuts that had fallen off the tree in the front yard. "Or talking about how strange the world is. Being with people is nice. But I don't think it's social to get a bunch of people together and then not let them talk, do you? An hour of TV class, an hour of basketball or baseball or running, another hour of transcription history or painting pictures, and more sports, but do you know, we never ask questions, or at least most don't; they just run the answers at you, bing, bing, bing, and us sitting there for four more hours of film-teacher. That's not social to me at all. It's a lot of funnels and lot of water poured down the spout and out the bottom, and them telling us it's wine when it's not. They run us so ragged by the end of the day we can't do anything but go to bed or head for a Fun Park to bully people around, break windowpanes in the Window Smasher place or wreck cars in the Car Wrecker place with the big steel ball. Or go out in the cars and race on the streets, trying to see how close you can get to lampposts, playing 'chicken' and 'knock hubcaps.' I guess I'm everything they say I am, all right. I haven't any friends. That's supposed to prove I'm abnormal. But everyone I know is either shouting or dancing around like wild or beating up one another. Do you notice how people hurt each other nowadays?

Who I really am, you don't want to see.

Who knew, Lizzy thought, the finite amount of nights in her life where she would sleep with her hand around a trusted body. That trusted hers. It wouldn't be a lot, anyway, would it.

Why did people get married seeking a way out of loneliness? There was nothing more lonelier than two married people in a room together. - p.126

Who knows what kind of loneliness is more agonizing: the one which befalls man when he casts his glance at the mute cosmos, at its dark spaces and monotonous drama, or the one that besets man exchanging glances with his fellow man in silence?

Why do I feel this alone? Basically, because I’ve always been alone. I’ve always been alone. And alone I’ll be. It’s about time I become aware of it and never forget it.

Why do you put yourself in unsafe places? Because something in you feels fundamentally devoid of worth.

Why the law of our forefathers are brought to nought, and the written covenants come to none effect-

Wife and loneliness are the best friends of a man. If wife leaves you, loneliness follows you wherever you are!

Will: I've never seen anyone get so excited over books before. You'd think they were diamonds. Tessa: Well, they are, aren't they? Isn't there anything you love like that?

Why would you want any other, when you’re a world within a world?

Will this pain leave as quickly as you did?

With the experience gained in loneliness; you can open many doors; with the experience gained in the crowds, you can open many doors and finally with the experience you have gained in both the loneliness and the crowd, you can open every door!

With Christ as your Savior and constant Companion, you, although alone, need never be lonely.

With solitude, however, fervently it is desired and embraced, comes loneliness. T. H White, the author, offered advice to those in sadness -- learn something new.

Wistful notes spoke of loneliness, as solitary as the final birdsong of autumn or the trill of summer’s last cicada before the wintry freeze.

Within perfect walls there is nothing worth protecting. There is, in fact, nothing. And so we exchange privacy for intimacy.

Woman: Wow-Man! A woman is an exclamation mark on the work of creation! When all was said and done, GOD made her — the crescendo of all that was created. A woman is the solution to the first problem GOD identified in man: loneliness. Loneliness is like sin, in that it can alter the entire existence of a man — it can reduce a man, full of significance, to absolute nothing. For sin, GOD gave Jesus. For loneliness, GOD gave Woman! A woman is a multiplier effect. Shewill take any little and make it a great nation. She incubates dreams, broods over them, stretches them and expands them beyond your wildest dreams. A good woman is a secret weapon. You are better because of her. She increases you just by reason of being there. It’s so clearly stated “He who finds a wife - the one who has a woman on his side - finds a good thing and automatically obtains favors from the Lord. You must love on her, be sweet to her, care for her, respect her, involve her, honor her, give her room, be patient with her, be good to her, be kind to her and watch your life completely blossom with beauty. Woman, you are a wonder! Own it, love it, honor it, feel wonderful because of it, walk in beauty because of it, shine brighter because of it.

Words are loneliness.

Wolves mated for life. Where was he? Where was the echo to her howl, her mate? Was there no other lone wolf, searching the hills for her?

Worse and worse...Can't you stand it? Are you retreating? Is this hour with the living too dead for you?

Wouldn't it be nice to be done with it? To be done with sex and longing? Mitchell could almost imagine pulling it off, sitting on a bridge at night with the Seine flowing by. He looked up at all the lighted windows along the river's arc. He thought of all the people going to sleep or reading or listening to music, all the lives contained by a great city like this, and, floating up in his mind, rising just above the rooftops, he tried to feel, to vibrate among, all those million tremulous souls. He was sick of craving, of wanting, of hoping, of losing.

Yaşamının mercek altına alınmasından gizliden gizliye zevk almayan bir hastayla henüz karşılaşmamıştı. Mercek ne kadar detaylı gösterirse hasta o kadar çok zevk alırdı. İncelenmekten alınan keyif o kadar büyük olurdu ki Breuer yaşlanma, sevdiklerini kaybetme ve dostlarından uzun yaşamanın asıl acı yanının sizi inceleyen gözlerin bulunmaması olduğuna inanırdı; hiç kimsenin dikkat etmediği bir yaşamdan duyulan dehşet ...

Writing is a lonely occupation at best. Of course there are stimulating and even happy associations with friends and colleagues, but during the actual work of creation the writer cuts himself off from all others and confronts his subject alone. He* moves into a realm where he has never been before — perhaps where no one has ever been. It is a lonely place, even a little frightening.

W samotności najgorsze jest to, że można się do niej przyzwyczaić i nic od nikogo nie potrzebować.

Writing is a solitary pleasure. Reading is a solitary pleasure. Does this mean that the writer and the readers do not like humanity? On the contrary! Beyond time and space, beyond colors and customs, the writer and the readers share dreams, knowledge, hopes, imagination, and love of mankind.

Yes, after all, this by now was his customary loneliness: there was little else he desired for the present than the hospitality of the dark.

Yes, I guess you could say I am a loner, but i feel more lonely in a crowded room with boring people then i feel on my owm.