#lonliness

Take hands. There is no love now. But there are hands. There is no joining now, But a joining has been Of the fastening of fingers And their opening. More than the clasp even, the kiss Speaks loneliness, How we dwell apart, And how love triumphs in this. ↗

— Laura Riding Jackson

#love #poetry #love

وأنت وإن أفردت في دار وحشة فأنا بدار الأنس في وحشة الفرد ↗

— ابن الرومي

#misery #mourning #poetry #sadness #mourning

After all, in the very casualness of Gatsby's party there were romantic possibilities totally absent from her world. ↗

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

#romance #romantic

Aye, though he loved her from his soul with such a self denying love as woman seldom wins; he spoke from first to last of Martin. ↗

— Charles Dickens

#lonliness #love #love

When our heart is closed, it can create a lonely and isolated feeling together with the attitude: "Nobody loves me" or "Nobody cares about me", which can make it hard for other people to love us. ↗

— Swami Dhyan Giten

#lonliness #love #attitude

There are times when I can find myself in a book, too, for two or three hours. But afterward I have such an urge to go out and reach for other people. Very often they're not around. There's also a metaphysical loneliness. We all feel it. The burden of living one's own life is experiencing sensations that no one else can share. You take a step in a house, you start moving around the house, no one else moves with you. You're walking by yourself. ↗

— David Ignatow

#solitude #life

No person, trying to take responsibility for her or his identity, should have to be so alone. There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep, and still be counted as warriors. ↗

— Adrienne Rich

#growth #lonliness #love #struggle #support

Waves with the Violent breeze never stopped, Those loving screams could not be Heard anymore , Speeding Tires although provided the speed, But Still we never reached Across The Shore . ↗

— Aditya Chandel

#lonliness #pain #love

Prime numbers are divisible only by 1 and by themselves. They hold their place in the infinite series of natural numbers, squashed, like all numbers, between two others, but one step further than the rest. They are suspicious, solitary numbers, which is why Mattia thought they were wonderful. Sometimes he thought that they had ended up in that sequence by mistake, that they'd been trapped, like pearls strung on a necklace. Other times he suspected that they too would have preferred to be like all others, just ordinary numbers, but for some reason they couldn't do it. this second thought struck him mostly at night, in the chaotic interweaving of images that comes before sleep, when the mind is too weak to tell itself lies. ↗

— Paolo Giordano

#lonliness #numbers #solitude #nature

You're great but you're not there when I go to bed at night or get up in the morning. You don't make me a cup of tea after a hard day at work, or rub my back in the bath. I'm sick of being lonely. Is that so wrong?  ↗

— Eleanor Prescott

#relationships #art