Best 1398 quotes in «solitude quotes» category

Besides, if truth be told, what I eat, even if it’s bread and onion, tastes better to me in my corner without fancy or respectful manners, than a turkey would at other tables where I have to chew slowly , not drink too much, wipe my mouth a lot, not sneeze or cough if I feel like it, or do other things that come with solitude and freedom.

Betrayed and wronged in everything, I’ll flee this bitter world where vice is king, And seek some spot unpeopled and apart Where I’ll be free to have an honest heart.

Ma Solitude Pour avoir si souvent dormi Avec ma solitude Je m'en suis fait presqu'une amie Une douce habitude Ell' ne me quitte pas d'un pas Fidèle comme une ombre Elle m'a suivi çà et là Aux quatre coins du monde Non, je ne suis jamais seul Avec ma solitude Quand elle est au creux de mon lit Elle prend toute la place Et nous passons de longues nuits Tous les deux face à face Je ne sais pas vraiment jusqu'où Ira cette complice Faudra-t-il que j'y prenne goût Ou que je réagisse? Non, je ne suis jamais seul Avec ma solitude Par elle, j'ai autant appris Que j'ai versé de larmes Si parfois je la répudie Jamais elle ne désarme Et si je préfère l'amour D'une autre courtisane Elle sera à mon dernier jour Ma dernière compagne Non, je ne suis jamais seul Avec ma solitude

Solitude Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcern’dly find Hours, days, and years, slide soft away In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day. Sound sleep by night; study and ease Together mix’d, sweet recreation, And innocence, which most does please With meditation. Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; Thus unlamented let me die; Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie.

The Lake In spring of youth it was my lot To haunt of the wide world a spot The which I could not love the less- So lovely was the loneliness Of a wild lake, with black rock bound, And the tall pines that towered around. But when the Night had thrown her pall Upon that spot, as upon all, And the mystic wind went by Murmuring in melody- Then-ah then I would awake To the terror of the lone lake. Yet that terror was not fright, But a tremulous delight- A feeling not the jewelled mine Could teach or bribe me to define- Nor Love-although the Love were thine. Death was in that poisonous wave, And in its gulf a fitting grave For him who thence could solace bring To his lone imagining- Whose solitary soul could make An Eden of that dim lake.

The Old Poets Of China Wherever I am, the world comes after me. It offers me its busyness. It does not believe that I do not want it. Now I understand why the old poets of China went so far and high into the mountains, then crept into the pale mist.

To Solitude O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,— Nature’s observatory—whence the dell, Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell, May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep ’Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell. But though I’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee, Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind, Whose words are images of thoughts refin’d, Is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be Almost the highest bliss of human-kind, When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.

Solitude There is a charm in Solitude that cheers A feeling that the world knows nothing of A green delight the wounded mind endears After the hustling world is broken off Whose whole delight was crime at good to scoff Green solitude his prison pleasure yields The bitch fox heeds him not -- birds seem to laugh He lives the Crusoe of his lonely fields Which dark green oaks his noontide leisure shields

The Infinite It was always dear to me, this solitary hill, and this hedgerow here, that closes out my view, from so much of the ultimate horizon. But sitting here, and watching here, in thought, I create interminable spaces, greater than human silences, and deepest quiet, where the heart barely fails to terrify. When I hear the wind, blowing among these leaves, I go on to compare that infinite silence with this voice, and I remember the eternal and the dead seasons, and the living present, and its sound, so that in this immensity my thoughts are drowned, and shipwreck seems sweet to me in this sea.

But for pain words are lacking. There should be cries, cracks, fissures, whiteness passing over chintz covers, interference with the sense of time, of space; the sense also of extreme fixity in passing objects; and sounds very remote and then very close; flesh being gashed and blood spurting, a joint suddenly twisted - beneath all of which appears something very important, yet remote, to be just held in solitude.

But he was absolutely alone. No one ever wrote to him. Visited him. Totally alone. And I believe the happiest man I have ever met.

But I need solitude--which is to say, recovery, return to myself, the breath of a free, light, playful air.

But in the midst of the freedom he had attained Harry suddenly became aware that his freedom was a death and that he stood alone. The world in an uncanny fashion left him in peace. Other men concerned him no longer. He was not even concerned about himself. He began to suffocate slowly in the more and more rarefied atmosphere of remoteness and solitude. For now it was his wish no longer, nor his aim, to be alone and independent, but rather his lot and his sentence. The magic wish had been fulfilled and could not be cancelled, and it was no good now to open his arms with longing and goodwill to welcome the bonds of society. People left him alone now. It was not, however, that he was an object of hatred and repugnance. On the contrary, he had many friends. A great many people liked him. But it was no more than sympathy and friendliness. He received invitations, presents, pleasant letters; but no more. No one came near to him. There was on link left, and no one could have had any part in his life even had anyone wished it. For the air of lonely man surrounded him now, a still atmosphere in which the world around him slipped away, leaving him incapable of relationship, an atmosphere against which neither will nor longing availed.

...but now, driving past the billboard I realized that losing everything is death. A death that I crave and I don't want anyone to save me

But now, I am addicted to the peace and calm of being alone. There is something so soothing about solitude that I have no urgent wish to give it up and connect with people.

But the night doesn't swallow her up. Everywhere she goes she is still there; the silence is as big as herself.

But taking my meal outside by the burning juniper in the fireplace with more desert and mountain than I could explore in a lifetime open to view, I was invited to contemplate a far larger world, one which extends into a past and into a future without any limits known to human kind. By taking off my shoes and digging my toes into the sand I made contact with that larger world - an exhilarating feeling which leads to equanimity. Certainly I was still by myself, so to speak - there were no other people around and there still are none - but in the midst of such a grand tableau it was impossible to give full and serious consideration to Albuquerque. All that is human melted with the sky and faded out beyond the mountains and I felt, as I feel - is it a paradox? - that a man can never find or need better companionship than that of himself.

But there is saying, and there is doing, and almost always people do something better than they can talk about it, as though the minded body defeats every attempt to select out only the mind part as deserving sole responsibility for the success.

Być może prawdziwa wolność jest zawsze okupiona samotnością.

But we-' she glanced at him as if to ascertain his position, 'we see each other only now and then-' 'Like lights in a storm-' 'In the midst of a hurricane,' she concluded, as the window shook beneath the pressure of the wind.

But when she finally got the wings to fly she realized she had nowhere else to go to...

By being within ourselves in isolation, through contemplation and meditation we find that which is quintessential for our progress – peace. If you’ve trouble with isolation, it’s obvious that you have a trouble with yourself. Somewhere, deep within you’re not at peace and, worse, maybe even at war with yourself.

But when I look back at myself at age twenty what I remember most is being alone and lonely. I had no girlfriend to warm my body or my soul, no friends I could open up to. No clue what I should do every day, no vision for the future. For the most part, I remained hidden away, deep within myself. Sometimes I’d go a week without talking to anybody. That kind of life continued for a year. A long, long year. Whether this period was a cold winter that left valuable growth rings inside me, I can’t really say. At the time I felt as if every night I, too, were gazing out a porthole at a moon made of ice. A transparent, eight-inch-thick, frozen moon. But I watched that moon alone, unable to share its cold beauty with anyone.

But, wherever a man goes, men will pursue and paw him with their dirty institutions, and, if they can, constrain him to belong to their desperate odd-fellow society. It is true, I might have resisted forcibly with more or less effect, might have run "amok" against society; but I preferred that society should run "amok" against me, it being the desperate party.

Caminhei por entre as árvores gigantescas, a sentir o peso da minha pequenez. Por momentos senti-me aliviada; se o mundo era tão grande, não devia importar o que uma pessoa tão pequena como eu sentia, podia simplesmente deixar-me ir, largar tudo.

Cantor illustrated the concept of infinity for his students by telling them that there was once a man who had a hotel with an infinite number of rooms, and the hotel was fully occupied. Then one more guest arrived. So the owner moved the guest in room number 1 into room number 2; the guest in room number 2 into number 3; the guest in 3 into room 4, and so on. In that way room number 1 became vacant for the new guest. What delights me about this story is that everyone involved, the guests and the owner, accept it as perfectly natural to carry out an infinite number of operations so that one guest can have peace and quiet in a room of his own. That is a great tribute to solitude.

C'était mon premier grand départ. Si voyager seul, c'est voyager avec le Diable, je me félicite de l'avoir fait.

C'est un grand jour, celui où l'on apprend qu'on est seul.

Caught in the center of a soundless field While hot inexplicable hours go by What trap is this? Where were its teeth concealed? You seem to ask. I make a sharp reply, Then clean my stick. I'm glad I can't explain Just in what jaws you were to suppurate: You may have thought things would come right again If you could only keep quite still and wait.

Certainly work is not always required of a man. There is such a thing as a sacred idleness, the cultivation of which is now fearfully neglected.

Challenges cause us to appreciate our solitude and think critically, and then we tend to become philosophers as we reflect on situations

Clara looked at Maria and tried to understand what she must do so that Maria would be able to see her. But the little French girl cast all around her the bronze of infinite solitude.

...children never forget. For this reason, it was so important what one said, and what one did, and it was a relief when they went to bed. For now she need not think about anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of-- to think; well, not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others.

Conception takes place when a man gets together with his creator in solitude.

Company, you see - company is - is - it's a very different thing from solitude - an't it?

Company is a burden to those at home in the solitude of their souls.

Connections are difficult. There’s an irritation in being among people who’ve already found their connection, and finding that those left who haven’t are just as undesirable as the void they would be replacing. The numbing mind-ream of knowing you're alone not because people won't accept you but because you find so little worth accepting. An imposed solitude is better than simply tolerating your company in waiting for something better. So loneliness is not such a terrible thing when you consider that the alternative to thought provoking solace is to be surrounded only by reminders of why that solitude is preferable.

Consider A Move The steady time of being unknown, in solitude, without friends, is not a steadiness that sustains. I hear your voice waver on the phone: Haven't talked to anyone for days. I drive around. I sit in parking lots. The voice zeroes through my ear, and waits. What should I say? There are ways to meet people you will want to love? I know of none. You come out stronger having gone through this? I no longer believe that, if I once did. Consider a move, a change, a job, a new place to live, someplace you'd like to be. That's not it, you say. Now time turns back. We almost touch. Then what is? I ask. What is?

Contemplation means rest, suspension of activity, withdrawal into the mysterious interior solitude in which the soul is absorbed in the immense and fruitful silence of God and learns something of the secret of His perfections less by seeing than by fruitive love.

Controversă Era acel tânăr prea singur! Dar toți îl iubeau... - Atunci, nu era așa singur! Sau ceilalți nu erau.

CORNELIA: -Sit down. Don't leave the table. GRACE: -Is that an order? CORNELIA: -I don't give orders to you, I make requests. GRACE: -Sometimes the requests of an employer are hard to distinguish from orders. [She sits down]

Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude And fled to the silence of sweet solitude. Where the flower in green darkness buds, blossoms, and fades, Unseen of all shepherds and flower-loving maids— The hermit bees find them but once and away. There I'll bury alive and in silence decay.

Creativity flourishes in solitude.

Creativity is a blessing and curse. You can't look away from creating more and always want to do better and you will always suffer in company of non-creative people who won't let your thoughts grow past their patty senseless thinking. Solitude is the best friend for all creators.

Crime, too, means solitude, even if a thousand people join together to commit it.

Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude And fled to the silence of sweet solitude.

Da ich nun einmal nicht imstande war, die Menschen vernünftiger zu machen, war ich lieber fern von ihnen glücklich.

Dear solitude, how I missed you in the times I was so attached to the illusion of loneliness, how I secretly longed for you in times of distraction with music and addiction, how I desired to dive into the creativity of your silent whispers.. oh solitude, I remember you there when I wrote my first book, I recall your inspiring voice when that pen hit the paper.. When I was no longer by your side, oh solitude, how you silently tried to draw me back to you, by showing me the continuous struggle to feel full among unfulfilling relationships or restless nights of loneliness.. Oh solitude, if it wasn't for you, where would I find all that you could provide, only you..

Death and birth are solitary experiences. We are born alone and we die alone. When we are expelled from the maternal womb, we begin the painful struggle that finally ends in death.

Deep down in my heart I know How much it’s hard for me to belong Either to someone Or to somewhere. Because it has always been there in my heart; the desire to make a world of my own out of everyone I meet or everyplace I go. And maybe that’s why it has never worked out for me to belong To any place or to any other person in the whole world But myself …