“We had a horrible fear of him because we sensed he was alone.”
“the power of being alone how do you know what you want if you re constantly surrounded by others”
“The prettiest, selfless, adorable and innocent smiles I have ever received are from the people whom I met traveling alone”
“Mindig is jobban éreztem magam egyedül. Amikor az ember egyedül van, az egyetlen problémája önmaga. Jobb úgy. Mert elkerül a baj. Én rendes ember vagyok. Ezt tudtam magamról.”
“Never miss an opportunity to make others happy, even if you have to leave them alone in order to do it. \”
“Never miss an opportunity to make others happy, even if you have to leave them alone in order to do it.”
“No one fixes the world alone.”
“People will tell you there s peace in solitude. These people haven t been alone for very long.”
“You know, some people act like every kid is entitled to two responsible, loving parents. I don t feel like that s a given. We re born alone, and we die alone. If you get an adult who s genuinely there for you, that s pretty lucky.”
“I belonged here the way I belonged to this planet and its people, but on one condition: alone, always alone.”
“I feel profoundly alone, cut off, unattractive…I feel unloveable. But I respect that unloveable solider—struggling to survive, struggling to be honest, just, honourable. I respect myself.”
“I’m not alone, I will never be alone. God is with me,”
“There are people out there who do this. They pick up and they leave. Sometimes they were never really there. Other times they are with you, but in their minds they are a thousand miles away. They are taking a walk down an endless road; they are standing in a field of daisies on some unknown cliff; they are floating through space. -The Art of Leaving”
“I hate when I can t control my loneliness”
“And I am the most miserable man alive, and more so because no one at this dinner table has the slightest notion of what s tearing me up.”
“Well, since you re not going to do anything with me—can you at least read me a story? I d settle for that. I wanted him to read me a story. Something by Chekhov or Gogol or Katherine Mansfield. Take your clothes off, Oliver, and come into my bed, let me feel your skin, your hair against my flesh, your foot on mine, even if we won t do a thing, lets cuddle up, you and I, when the night is spread out against the sky, and read stories of restless people who always end up alone and hate being alone because it s always themselves they can t stand being alone with . . .”
“The pavements were blocks of ice under my feet, and I could feel the cold through the soles of my shoes. I thought about the past ... The terrifying blackouts of my youth. I thought about never seeing my sister again. I thought about [girl]. First scared, then alone, then dead.”