Quotes Tagged "solitude"

She preferred the quiet solitary atmosphere, to create in her own world of paint and colour, the thrill of anticipating how her works would turn out as she eyed the blank sheets of paper or canvas before starting her next masterpiece. How satisfying it was to mess around in paint gear, without having to worry about spills, starch or frills, that was the life!

People who do a job that claims to be creative have to be alone to recharge their batteries. You can’t live 24 hours a day in the spotlight and remain creative. For people like me, solitude is a victory.

One who will not accept solitude, stillness and quiet recurring moments...is caught up in the wilderness of addictions; far removed from an original state of being and awareness. This is 'dis-ease.

Divide the constant tide and random noisiness of energetic flow, with conscious recurring moments of empty mind, solitude, gratitude and deep...slow...breathing. Of this, the natural law of self-preservation demands.

Solitude is the house of peace.

Drowning in silence; for in silence I shall never be disappointed …

Deep down in my heart I know How much it’s hard for me to belong Either to someone Or to somewhere. Because it has always been there in my heart; the desire to make a world of my own out of everyone I meet or everyplace I go. And maybe that’s why it has never worked out for me to belong To any place or to any other person in the whole world But myself …

She has always been fascinated with silence. For in silence she could sit and breathe nothing but the truth. She senses all the unexpressed feelings, the unsaid words, and the rotten untold stories in her chest. For in silence she embraces her solitude, she puts her pieces back together and creates a world of her own where she’ll always choose to live in and simply enjoy …

This world has never failed to disappoint And it has its way to teach me that the best thing you may do is running back to yourself Make a therapy out of your favorite things; Read for your favorite authors, Listen to music, Write love notes to yourself, And enjoy solitude between the walls of your room. The world is so cold outside, so learn to enjoy the warmth of those details you have always had but never learned to appreciate …

In solitude, you see yourself in the mirror of you mind. If you love yourself, you will enjoy those moments as if you are spending time with a lovely friend. If you don’t love yourself, you will feel as if you are spending time with a stranger.

In our household doubts more troubling than these were suffered in silence. The spiritual void I have seen in so many of Istanbul's rich, Westernised, secularist families is evident in these silences. Everyone talks openly about mathematics, success at school, football and having fun, but they grapple with the most basic questions of existence - love,compassion, religion, the meaning of life, jealousy, hatred - in trembling confusion and painful solitude. They light a cigarette, give their attention to the music on the radio, return wordlessly to their inner worlds.

What's agitating about solitude is the inner voice telling you that you should be mated to somebody, that solitude is a mistake. The inner voice doesn't care about who you find. It just keeps pestering you, tormenting you--if you happen to be me--with homecoming queens first, then girls next door, and finally anybody who might be pleased to see you now and then at the dinner table and in bed on occasion. You look up from reading the newspaper and realize that no one loves you, and no one burns for you.

You never walk alone. Even the devil is the lord of flies.

Sound crazy? It may well be, but it is precisely in relationships of intimacy that your craziness (and mine) will be hardest to conceal. p.215

... relationships required such vigilance, such attention. You had to hold them together by force of will, and other people took up so much space, demanded so much time. It was exhausting.

I could tell you of occasionally, every eon, meeting a person, with whom I might stay for a billion years. But what of it? After a billion years there is nothing left to say, and you wander apart, uncaring in the end.

She was such a solitary woman. A solitary woman who longed for one person to know her. I think I do know her now, but it is too late.

The whole value of solitude depends upon oneself; it may be a sanctuary or a prison, a haven of repose or a place of punishment, a heaven or a hell, as we ourselves make it.

I can’t help you, I can only guide you, and you are the one who can help yourself.

The writer's curse is that even in solitude, no matter its duration, he never grows lonely or bored.