loneliness

I seek the city because there is nothing sweeter than not being alone in your loneliness.

Loneliness is really a wonderful companion that can show us so much about ourselves and others.

I've never been in love. I've dreamt of it day and night, but my heart is like a fine piano no one can play because the key is lost.

If solitude feels painful, it's only because we don't know how to be alone.

... but she was also bewilderingly lonely... Abra had lost her gift for being alone.

I had no idea that "letting go" would be so complicated; that it would sometimes feel liberating and other times more sorrowful and lonely. In the long run, most of it was like standing on the shore, watching your family set sail for America, and they're smiling and waving good-bye, and getting smaller and smaller, but you are still the same size with no one to talk to.

I didn't feel lonely until there was something to yearn for. Loneliness and longing are two sides of the same coin.

Fighting makes us feel alive, until it kills us. If it doesn__ kill us, the pain of sitting alone with ourselves, quietly, under constant assault by our own thoughts and memories of war can easily be enough to make us wish we__ died in battle instead.

He liked lonely places, because he never really felt alone.

There are those that wonder which is worse: Not being able to reach out or not having anyone to reach for. There are some that ponder which is the greater ache: Not being able to tell or not having anyone that cares enough to ask. Perhaps it__ not one person that is to blame, but both.

I don't know what I'm doing in Santa Teresa," Amalfitano said to himself after he'd been living in the city for a week."Don't you? Don't you really?" he asked himself."Really I don't," he said to himself. And that was as eloquent as he could be.

I enjoy controlled loneliness. I like wandering around the city alone. I__ not afraid of coming back to an empty flat and lying down in an empty bed. I__ afraid of having no one to miss, of having no one to love.

I doubt even you can begin to understand the depths of her.

What had happened in these ten years for there suddenly be so much to say _ so much so pressing that it couldn__ wait to be said? Everywhere I walked, somebody was approaching me talking on a phone and someone was behind me talking on a phone. Inside the cars, the drivers were on the phone. When I took a taxi, the cabbie was on the phone. For one who frequently went without talking to anyone for days at a time, I had to wonder what that had previously held them up had collapsed in people to make incessant talking into a telephone preferable to walking about under no one__ surveillance, momentarily solitary, assimilating the streets through one__ animal senses and thinking the myriad thoughts that the activities of a city inspire. For me it made the streets appear comic and the people ridiculous. And yet it seemed like a real tragedy, too. To eradicate the experience of separation must inevitably have a dramatic effect. What will the consequence be? You know you can reach the other person anytime, and if you can't, you get impatient__mpatient and angry like a stupid little god.

Loneliness is that feeling to understand your own Self

Poverty only tries men's souls. It is loneliness that breaks the heart.

We are accustomed to think of ourselves as a great democratic body, linked by common ties of blood and language, united indissolubly by all the modes of communication which the ingenuity of man can possibly devise; we wear the same clothes, eat the same diet, read the same newspapers, alike in everything but name, weight and number; we are the most collectivized people in the world, barring certain primitive peoples whom we consider backward in their development. And yet_ yet despite all the outward evidences of being close-knit, interrelated, neighborly, good__umored, helpful, sympathetic, almost brotherly, we are a lonely people, a morbid, crazed herd thrashing about in zealous frenzy, trying to forget that we are not what we think we are, not really united, not really devoted to one another, not really listening, not really anything, just digits shuffled about by some unseen hand in a calculation which doesn't concern us.

The Idea of Ghost, like the Idea of North. A mere looped whisper, in darkness or in light. And no matter what this person may have been like before he or she died, no matter what they--specifically--might have wanted, ghosts only really want one thing: you, with them.Not to be alone. Not to be trapped. Not to be where they are. Not to be.