loneliness

From his earliest years Cincinnatus, by some strange and happy chance comprehending his danger, carefully managed to conceal a certain peculiarity. He was impervious to the rays of others, and therefore produced when off his guard a bizarre impression, as of a lone dark obstacle in the world of souls transparent to one other; he learned however to feign translucence, employing a complex system of optical illusions, as it were--but he had only to forget himself, to allow a momentary lapse in self control, in the manipulation of cunningly illuminated facets and angles at which he turned his soul, and immediately there was alarm. In the midst of the excitement of a game his coevals would suddenly forsake him, as if they had sensed that his lucid gaze and the azure of his temples were but a crafty deception and that actually Cincinnatus was opaque. Sometimes, in the midst of sudden silence, the teacher, in a chagrined perplexity, would gather up all the reserves of skin around his eyes, gaze at him for a long while and finally say: "What is wrong with you, Cincinnatus?" Then Cincinnatus would take hold of himself, and, clutching his own self to his breast, would remove that self to a safe place.

Even in your closest friendships, you're alone. Maybe it's your best friend who, in fact, reminds you, just by making it her business to try to know your heart, that no one can - that our fate is to suffer in isolation and then die. But it's our collective fate! So I guess I'm an optimist.

She pulls up to the drive wayParks the car, Gets Out, Walks up to the door, And embraces me with an iron holdShe is a friend and hugs me the same way she used to, Her hands sliding into their old creases along my bodyI let her into the house, knowing I could never refuseAs she walks through my doors, she reminds me why she stands in my living roomShe tells me that she has returned because of my actions I didn__ learn from the last timeIts my faultI should have been better, she berates meI should have let people in, she tells meI should not have gotten mad, she shares with meI should not have locked myself away, she lets me knowI silently bear all the responsibility for her returnAs we start to get deep into conversation, I realize she has brought her bagsSuitcase after suitcase lets me know she is here to stayShe tells me she will run my life from now onShe will make my scheduleShe will direct how I actShe has come to my doors, breached my walls, destroyed my defenses, and announced her ownership.Crownless in my own kingdomI am defeated.This old friend is called Loneliness

I don't think there's a lonelier feeling than being with someone who has stopped caring.

The only person I really wanted to talk to about Augustus Waters' death was Augustus Waters.

Every time a man (myself) gives way to vanity, every time he thinks and lives in order to show off, this is a betrayal. Every time, it has always been the great misfortune of wanting to show off which has lessened me in the presence of the truth. We do not need to reveal ourselves to others, but only to those we love. For then we are no longer revealing ourselves in order to seem but in order to give. There is much more strength in a man who reveals himself only when it is necessary. I have suffered from being alone, but because I have been able to keep my secret I have overcome the suffering of loneliness. To go right to the end implies knowing how to keep one__ secret. And, today, there is no greater joy than to live alone and unknown.

At some point, loneliness becomes less a condition than a habit.

Dreams were frail things, when all was said, and loneliness the only certainty.

The high is what you crave, what you would kill for... and believe me, you will lie to yourself until it's to late to stop.

To you who eat a lot of rice because you__e lonely, To you who sleep a lot because you__e bored, To you who cry a lot because you are sad, I write this down. Chew on your feelings that are cornerned like you would chew on rice.Anyway, life is something that you need to digest.

Maybe loneliness is an acquired taste, or maybe it's like plunging your hand in ice water--it hurts like hell in the beginning, and then you go numb.

I hadn't talked to myself in a while, but then again, I was all alone. I was my only true supporter. And loneliness is a bitch.

the idea of being invisibly alone in a crowd of strangers is so tempting for a number of introverts...or maybe for loneliness?

The small talk that sprang readily to their lips came to hers only with a tremendous effort. After an opportunity had come and gone, she often scolded herself for not saying this or doing that, for laughing too loud or smiling too little. Whenever she tried to re-create the moment of contact, she was easily rebuffed by the slightest gesture, withdrawing all too quickly if she thought she was in the way. The old stone-and-brick schoolhouse, with its four gabled roofs and round little windows, was the only thing that seemed steadfast to her, while the beings that populated its rooms and thundered down its corridors were unreal and unpredictable. It gripped her like a monstrous truth that she was condemned to lead life without belonging or feeling close to anyone.

Alone"Lying, thinkingLast nightHow to find my soul a homeWhere water is not thirstyAnd bread loaf is not stoneI came up with one thingAnd I don__ believe I__ wrongThat nobody,But nobodyCan make it out here alone.Alone, all aloneNobody, but nobodyCan make it out here alone.There are some millionairesWith money they can__ useTheir wives run round like bansheesTheir children sing the bluesThey__e got expensive doctorsTo cure their hearts of stone.But nobodyNo, nobodyCan make it out here alone.Alone, all aloneNobody, but nobodyCan make it out here alone.Now if you listen closelyI__l tell you what I knowStorm clouds are gatheringThe wind is gonna blowThe race of man is sufferingAnd I can hear the moan,__ause nobody,But nobodyCan make it out here alone.Alone, all aloneNobody, but nobodyCan make it out here alone.

Your never alone , look around you there are so many objects , they don't live but are there in your presence , your never truly alone

But he wanted to leap up, to say to her, I have been sick and I found out then, only then, how lonely I am. Is it too late? My heart puts up a struggle inside me, and you may have heard it, protesting against emptiness...It should be full, he would rush on to tell her, thinking of his heart now as a deep lake, it should be holding love like other hearts. It should be flooded with love. There would be a warm spring day...Come and stand in my heart, whoever you are, and a whole river would cover your feet and rise higher and take your knees in whirlpools, and draw you down to itself, your whole body, your heart too.("Death of a Traveling Salesman")

It is raining, perhaps clouds voiding their deepest longings! Upon the streams I have drove those paper boats to the farthest. Listening to the lonely drops of rain I am trying in vain to sing melodious, Alas the voice ends deep within! Were you the song within? O my dear, but I know you are silence that sings wordless, a melody hummed nameless!