It's weird to feel like you miss someone you're not even sure you know.
Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine.
I'm not much but I'm all I have.
The only time we waste is the time we spend thinking we are alone.
Some people are just not meant to be in this world. It's just too much for them.
Sometimes I feel so- I don’t know - lonely. The kind of helpless feeling when everything you’re used to has been ripped away. Like there’s no more gravity, and I’m left to drift in outer space with no idea where I’m going’ Like a little lost Sputnik?’ I guess so.
They cannot scare me with their empty spaces Between stars—on stars where no human race is. I have it in me so much nearer home To scare myself with my own desert places.
I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others--young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.
It would be too easy to say that I feel invisible. Instead, I feel painfully visible, and entirely ignored.
When you have nobody you can make a cup of tea for, when nobody needs you, that's when I think life is over.
I'll never forget how the depression and loneliness felt good and bad at the same time. Still does.
Where are the people? resumed the little prince at last. It’s a little lonely in the desert… It is lonely when you’re among people, too, said the snake.
So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them." (Initiation)
there is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock
Separation Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.
I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone.
How we need another soul to cling to.
But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning.
A great fire burns within me, but no one stops to warm themselves at it, and passers-by only see a wisp of smoke
If one's different, one's bound to be lonely.