But tonight, because Rome had fallen and Felix was dead, because of Valerius’s shame, the empty hut seemed horribly lonely, and there was a small aching need in him for somebody to notice, even if they were not glad, that he had come home.
So I am lonely, but not alone, like everybody else.
Well, see, I think it's that most people don't like that lonely feeling. People don't like looking up and feeling small or lost. That's what I think prayer is all about. It doesn't matter which stories they believe in, they're all doing the same thing, kind of casting a line out to outer space, like there's something out there to connect to. It's like people make themselves part of something bigger that way, and maybe it makes them less afraid.
The lunatic's visions of horror are all drawn from the material of daily fact. Our civilization is founded on the shambles, and every individual existence goes out in a lonely spasm of helpless agony.
Say who you are, really say it in your life and in your work. Tell someone out there who is lost, someone not yet born, someone who won’t be born for 500 years. Your writing will be a record of your time. It can’t help but be that. But more importantly, if you’re honest about who you are, you’ll help that person be less lonely in their world because that person will recognise him or herself in you and that will give them hope.
He's just a little unbalanced and lonely." He put his arms around my waist, frowning. "Can't he be lonely and unbalanced around someone else's girlfriend?" "I'll suggest it.
I made it the mantra of those days; when I paused before yet another series of switchbacks or skidded down knee-jarring slopes, when patches of flesh peeled off my feet along with my socks, when I lay alone and lonely in my tent at night I asked, often out loud: Who is tougher than me? The answer was always the same, and even when I knew absolutely there was no way on this earth that it was true, I said it anyway: No one.
Because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it.
It suddenly struck me that Dawsey is a lonesome person. I think it may be that he has always been lonely, but he didn't mind before, and now he minds.
I don’t smoke, although it looks fantastic in films. But I light matches on those thinking blank nights when I crawl my route out onto the roof of the garage and the sky while my parents sleep innocent and the lonely cars move sparse on the faraway streets, when the pillow won’t stay cool and the blankets bother my body no matter how I move or lie still. I just sit with my legs dangling and light matches and watch them flicker away.
Have you ever been lonely? No, neither have I. Solitary, yes. Alone, certainly. But lonely means minding about being on your own. I've never minded about it.
Lonely people tend, rather, to be lonely because they decline to bear the psychic costs of being around other humans. They are allergic to people. People affect them too strongly.
And we'd look at each other the way you do when you see someone on the street you think you recognize, but not quite. Someone you wish with all your heart were there but who is actually just a stranger. And you feel a kind of deep longing that hurts like a huge gash and your inability to fix it leaves you frustrated and angry and bone-deep lonely.
A pine tree standeth lonely In the North on an upland bare; It standeth whitely shrouded With snow, and sleepeth there. It dreameth of a Palm tree Which far in the East alone, In the mournful silence standeth On its ridge of burning stone.
... even though it was beautiful and comfortable, and even though it was the world, it was also a little bit boring. No, wait. Maybe boring isn’t the right word. What’s the word I’m wanting here? Lonely. That’s it. It was a little bit lonely.
Most of the people are homesick anyway, and a little lonely, and they hide themselves in their hair and are turned into flowers.
However, I can’t be happy. I feel I can’t have that experience, I can’t assume I will have that experience. I’m free but feeling lonely and disheartened. I hope there’s happiness out there; besides the future is approaching and waiting for me. In the future, I will be a part of the world. I will finally live my life.
Out on the moors, The lonely moors, I roll around in sheep poo. Heathcliff, it's youuuuu, I hate you, I love you tooooo. Let me in, I'm here, it's meeeee, Catheeeeeeee. Look out of your windooooow.
I was bored. Sad. Lonely. It was only a matter of time before I cracked.
Though I still turn up my coat-collar in a lonely way and am always looking at myself in mirrors, they’re only habits and give no clue at all to my character, whatever that is. The most difficult performance in the world is acting naturally isn’t it? Everything else is artful.
Maybe he's lonely. Sebastian can't be the greatest company." "We don't know that. He could be absolutely fantastic at Scrabble," said Magnus.
Nobody's bought this land. And no one's going to want it either. It's dying land, lonely land." "Like me, then," I said. "Yes, like you." You chewed the corner of your lip. "You both need saving.
In the center lay the exploded carcass of a lonely sperm whale that hadn't lived long enough to be disappointed with its lot.
Lies had deserted me, and I felt as lonely as though they had been my only friends.
I would always be lonely, but no more alone.
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