Best 888 quotes in «alone quotes» category

God alone knows how to bring success and strengthen us in it

God did not create you to be alone. He deposited skills, knowledge, and talents in someone out there who is expected to mentor you, teach you and encourage you to go high. Go, get a mentor!

Half the time he felt entirely out of control. Half the time he threw up walls out of fear. And half the time he opted out of life before anyone had the chance to discard him. No matter that the math didn’t add up, it was just how he felt.

He could have been invisible and it wouldn’t have made a difference to them. He didn’t care, so long as he felt at ease, which was his original intention. He wasn’t there to make friends, nor did he want to.

He cried, almost entire night. He cried alone in his small shed. That was only game that he could play without needing another person to participate.

He doesn't trust people because he knows they are all the same. Everyone cares about their own survival and nothing else, just like him. Since he is more than willing to kill for it, so are they. After all, he has endured through all these years, leading him to be alone, it was the only conclusion that made sense.

He drinks his coffee tentatively, glancing at me every few seconds, watching me. Every time he glances in my direction, I quickly turn away though he obviously knows I'm watching him. I know he's wondering why I'm staring at him, but he doesn't ask. I finally take a sip of coffee, set the mug back on the table, and voice what's on my mind, "I want to draw you.

He had done nothing on Christmas day, just wandered around outside in the frozen woods. Hard ground, chill winds and bare branches that looked like they'd been dipped in sugar. None of it seemed real, like walking around in a desolate dream, but one he didn't want to wake up from.

He entered the bar at the far end of the boulevard. He was feeling melancholic and a tad morose for no particular reason. The bar was already bustling with a few people. But he was all alone. He was feeling the bouts of loneliness all over again. He knew he had to forget her. There was nothing else that he could do. The bartender looked at him sitting all alone on one corner of the bar. And asked gently with a smile"Monsieur what shal I get for you?" He smiled back and said "Whiskey on the rocks!

Hell is being alone for all eternity. Alone, unloved, unloving.

Her expression almost never changed. Made it hard to tell what she was thinking. But also made her seem separate from the rest of the world. It was like she lived so deep in the ocean even light couldn’t reach her. Like a fish that couldn’t see the dark lonely depths, because it was always dreaming about sunlight.

Here are few words to the unknown person who hurted me in a way nobody else did. This has been very impacting, the words still bang my head like marijuana. Even though I didn't knew much about you, I had no idea of the vulgarity of your mind which was so flithy for me but beautifuly coated with saccharine tales and rains with utmost fake sympathy. I sigh almost in tears for the words I never ever imagined to hear from anybody, but you broke that thought away henceforth believing that Satan did existed in the harmony of Angels. We could have been such good friends talking secretly about you to my besty that 'Maris is so warmest being'. You didn't had any idea how much I respected you and your struggles. I wonder how could you do this to a stranger like me who had been happily good to your gestures ever since I Mailed you. That mail just said to take care of my favourite thing and you took a revenge of my kindness. I sigh my pity on you that I cared for you beyond I thought I would do. But my dear, I still have care for you and never wish to accept your apology because you were in anger and wrath does Mahabharata. I just want to tell you that everything you did,hurted me and the challenges are really unbearable, the consequence is worst, you making me alone in such darkness that I wish to sleep in weepy rain and wake up in never.

He remembered to the end of his life what he felt at that moment, while the bone of his lower jaw met the bones of his knuckles pressed so hard against them. He felt absolutely alone – alone in an emptiness that was different from empty space. He did not pity himself. He did not hate himself. He just endured himself and waited – waited till whatever it was that enclosed him made some sign.

Her upbringing had given her an independence of mind that made her more like a girl of today than one of her own time - which was why she had walked out, and why she was not daunted by the prospect of being alone.

He sits amongst the crowd, entirely alone.

He smirks, shaking his head and letting his eyes wander. I watch him carefully, wondering what I can say to get him to leave. “I’m not leaving until you answer some questions. Plus, I’m holding your sketchbook hostage, so you might want to cooperate.” I raise an eyebrow at him. I guess there isn’t much I can say. “This isn’t a hostage negotiation.” He chuckles half-heartedly as his eyes take me in, almost sizing me up. “I guess I should introduce myself.” He holds a hand out for me to shake. “I’m Nathan.” I stare at his hand for a moment. “Taylor,” I reply, meeting his eyes again without taking his hand. He lets his hand fall back to his side. “At least I got you to say something non-hostile.” “I haven’t been hostile,” I object. His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, haven’t you?” “Why don’t you leave me alone?” I snap. “Leave and don’t come back.” I move passed him, heading for my apartment. He can’t follow and annoy me if I lock the door. “Where are you going?” he demands. I look back over my shoulder and roll my eyes at him, indicating the answer should be obvious: anywhere he isn’t. Once inside, I slam the door behind me. “That was totally not hostile!” he calls after me, sarcastically. I quickly head for my bedroom door, slamming it, too.

He stares at me—taking me in—with his lips slightly parted. I struggle to hold myself in place as we gawk at each other. I want so desperately to run, but something is holding me back, keeping me in place.

He thought how silly it was that he believed in something so arbitrary. He foolishly believed he had a purpose, that he was destined for something better. Now he had to live with the fact that he was just a lonely boy with no identity at all. And he had made a lot of terrible mistakes.

He was alone with his thoughts. They were extremely unpleasant thoughts and he would rather have had a chaperon.

He was nineteen years old, homeless and rootless, with no family and no purpose in life.

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.

Houses, like people, are apt to become rather eccentric if left too much on their own

How alone everyone is in the vast tomb of the universe!

How many times had it been made clear to Fin that he was alone in this world? That no one else could help him, care for him, be there for him? Every night on the edge of sleep, he closed his yes and thought about finding his mother or learning where he came from or coming downstairs and having the Parsnickles pick him up and spin him around and treat him like a normal kid in a normal family. This despair was nothing new. Every single day, he faced the fear that he would be this way forever and nothing would change, and every single day he beat that fear. He'd bitten down sadness before. He would do it again. Every single day, until he did find his mother, and then he would be a normal kid. He had to be.

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

I am a runaway, lost at sea. I am a broken bird, yearning to fly free. I am a sinner, unworthy and unholy. I am a rose, wilting slowly. I am a raindrop, touching your cheek. I am a child who plays hide and seek. I am nothing, and yet I am everything. I am contradictions and complexities. I am a face with a hundred entities. I am love and I am hate. I am the voice that cannot communicate. I am a melody, haunting and sad. I am a soul that has slowly gone mad. I am death in a living body. I am a dangerous opium poppy. I am rage, running through my veins. I am pain, bound in chains. I am isolation, imprisoned in my mind. I am abandoned and left behind. I am tenderness, soft and kind. I am trust, naïve and blind. I am remorse, shattered and frozen. I am the path I have not chosen. I am sadness, drowning in an ocean. I am faith, yearning for devotion. I am madness, rebellious and wild. I am sanity, safely filed. I am wisdom, cursed and blessed. I am a name that will burn in your chest. I am a journey, destination unknown. I am a heart turned to stone. I am forever alone.

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

I am lost in my world, invisible - unknown. Moon please lend me your light that someone will me see me.

I am not alone, in my aloneness.

I am not a Sunday morning inside four walls with clean blood and organized drawers. I am the hurricane setting fire to the forests at night when no one else is alive or awake however you choose to see it and I live in my own flames sometimes burning too bright and too wild to make things last or handle myself or anyone else and so I run. run run run far and wide until my bones ache and lungs split and it feels good. Hear that people? It feels good because I am the slave and ruler of my own body and I wish to do with it exactly as I please

I am not poor, I am not rich; nihil est, nihil deest, I have little, I want nothing: all my treasure is in Minerva’s tower...I live still a collegiate student...and lead a monastic life, ipse mihi theatrum [sufficient entertainment to myself], sequestered from those tumults and troubles of the world...aulae vanitatem, fori ambitionem, ridere mecum soleo [I laugh to myself at the vanities of the court, the intrigues of public life], I laugh at all.

I am not sad anymore. I am not weak or tender or quiet like you remember because the second you said those words and closed that door, I sold my soul to the part of myself I had buried in order to love you, to let you touch every inch of my rotten body, for I wanted to be touchable and not so strange. Not so sad and tender, like I’ve always been, they say, so I changed. And then your glances and words throwing knives with no return about my change of habits and ways of living, being, and I nodded and smiled, dying silently a little bit inside.

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

I cannot love, I want to be alone I will not love, I want to be alone

I don't think people are meant to be by themselves. That's why you actually find someone you care about. It's important to let go of the little things, even if you can't let go all the way. Because nothing sucks more than feeling all alone, no matter how many people are around.

Hold this rope while I dive into my soul; don't even bother pulling it if I didn't come up on my own.

Hold her hand before she decides to walk alone.

Hopelessly holding on to bad love, because of the fear of being alone.

How terrible," said Eragon, "to die alone, separate even from the one who is closest to you." Everyone dies alone, Eragon. Whether you are a king on a battlefield or a lowly peasant lying in bed among your family, no one can accompany you into the void.

Humans can be anything you want, Only when alone.

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 also had a dim idea that if I walked the streets of New York by myself all night something of the city's mystery and magnificence might rub off on me at last. But I gave it up.

I always am in a role, lovely – for you, for them – even for myself. Yeah... Even when I’m alone, I am still in a role – and I myself am the most exacting audience I have ever had.

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 am poppies in the field Red and cold I am sleeping alone and I am light I am light I am light

I am still living in those days ... where you lived me alone :-(

I can’t help but imagine what that would be like—to be all alone on this island with eternity taunting me with loneliness. To say goodbye to the last human you will ever see—there is no crueler hand of fate.

I can’t cure anyone. I can’t guarantee they will heal. I can only tell them my story, remind them that they are not alone in their journey and offer a glimmer of hope for healing.

I can’t look people in the eye and tell them that they’re going to die anymore.

I can’t sleep alone anymore and I get used to company too quickly. You’re always gone too soon.