loneliness

At the innermost core of all loneliness is a deep and powerful yearning for union with one's lost self.

But what I did sense was an emptiness like a black hole inside of him, and there was no predicting what might emerge from a place like that.

She was not yet dead. But I was already alone.

there's no clarity.there was never meant to be clarity.

What a fool she was ever to have imagined that there might be some place in the world where she could sink to the earth with the knowledge that there were people round her who understood, who perhaps even admired and loved her! She was fated to carry loneliness about with her as a leper carries his scabs. 'No one can do anything for me: no one can do anything against me.

For once in my life, I wished Mr. Bradshaw had slipped a tracker into my shoe or my coat pocket. I wished that he was still keeping tabs on me, even when I told him that I didn__ need him to, or that I could take care of myself. Because the truth was that I knew I__ always need help along the way. I needed help now, and at some point in my life I__ need help again.

Walking by yourself in the rain is for college kids who think loneliness makes poets.

I look at old photos and it gives me joy and and tells me about the best time I spent with people but they always left a feeling of loneliness & things I missed and I don't feel connected to them at all.

paradise seemed further away than India, but Hell had become a bit closer

Do you have a shoulder to cry on?Someone who would listen to your deepest woes without judging you?Or is it just you and the image in the mirror?

All the hungers will kill, but hunger of loneliness turns you into a philosopher.

We have to live without sympathy, don't we? That's impossible of course. We act it to one another, all this hardness; but we aren't like that really, I mean...one can't be out in the cold all the time; one has to come in from the cold...d'you see what I mean?

I had grazed along the surface of her actions and made deep judgments. Rejecting someone because you couldn't understand their love, that was a new one. The more I thought about it the longer the shadow of doubt stretched over all my conclusions. More often than not, things were as they seemed. But as I stared at her, she wasn't as bad looking as I had once thought. I realized how all this time I had seen her the wrong way, and how one's character affects one's appearance. Although she wasn't my type she was attractive. As I thought about her - the vulnerable intelligence, the violent honesty, and the fact that in the entire city she was the only one who took me in and fed me - she became more and more irresistible. Baited by an obscure beauty, trapped by an intense sorrow - all prior definitions had been overruled: this was love.

Deep down, the young are lonelier than the old.' I read that in a book somewhere and it's stuck in my head. Maybe it's true. Maybe it's not true. More likely, the young and the old are lonely in different ways, in their own ways...

A man with a good wife is the luckiest of God's creatures, and one without must be among the most miserable, I think, the only true blessing of their lives that they don't know how poorly off they are.

Any time I see a person fleeing from reason and into religion, I think to myself, There goes a person who simply cannot stand being so goddamn lonely anymore.

Loneliness is not lack of company. Loneliness is lack of purpose.

We are a singularity that makes music out of noise because we must hurry. We make a harvest of loneliness and desiring in the blank wasteland of the cosmos.