Loneliness Quotes

One may have a blazing hearth in one's soul and yet no one ever comes to sit by it.

Vincent van Gogh

So lonely 'twas that God himself scarce seemed there to be.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The lonely one offers his hand too quickly to whomever he encounters.

Friedrich Nietzsche

Man's loneliness is but his fear of life.

No man is an Island intire of it self every man is a peece of the Continent a part of the maine if a Clod be washed away by the sea Europe is the lesse as well as if a Promontorie were as well as if a manor of thy friends or thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in Mankinde and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls it tolls for thee.

Who knows what true loneliness is - not the conventional word but the naked terror? To the lonely themselves it wears a mask. The most miserable outcast hugs some memory or some illusion.

Little do men perceive what solitude is and how far it extendeth. For a crowd is not company and faces are but a gallery of pictures and talk but a tinkling cymbal where there is no love.

Where you used to be there is a hole in the world which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime and falling into at night. I miss you like hell.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

The eternal quest of the individual human being is to shatter his loneliness.

Language has created the word 'loneliness' to express the pain of being alone and the word 'solitude' to express the glory of being alone.

If I'm such a legend then why am I so lonely? Let me tell you legends are all very well if you've got somebody around who loves you.

Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty.

Jealousy is no more than feeling alone against smiling enemies.

Elizabeth Bowen

To be adult is to be alone (etre adulte c'est etre seul).

What loneliness is more lonely than distrust.

Loneliness is and always has been the central and inevitable experience of every man.

A whole planet of worlds, and not one of them—not one—has a soul. They wander through their lives separate and alone, unable even to communicate except through grunts and tokens: as if the essence of a sunset or a supernova could ever be contained in some string of phonemes, a few linear scratches of black on white. They've never known communion, can aspire to nothing but dissolution. The paradox of their biology is astonishing, yes; but the scale of their loneliness, the futility of these lives, overwhelms me.

Of all the deep longings, this ache for missing intimacy, cuts through sharply, like a scream in a silent room, like the last gasping breath under a stifling mask, like the huge lump in the throat that one is unable to swallow. This deep ache to be held, to know touch both the casual and intense variety, to catch an eye in answering laughter, to merge into oneness, to sing through existence in resonance with another, to simply be in deep love in openness. to live and die in intimacy and vulnerability in a loved one's arms. And, you ache alone...

Srividya Srinivasan