Charlaine Harris Quotes

Solitude is the profoundest fact

There are places and moments in which one is so completely alone that one sees the world entire.

Solitude has its own very strange beauty to it.

Isolation, but it's a good vulnerability. Humbling. I actually seek out solitude.

To go into solitude, a man needs to retire as much from his chamber as from society. I am not solitary whilst I read and write, though nobody is with me. But if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars.

Solitude, though it may be silent as light, is like light, the mightiest of agencies; for solitude is essential to man. All men come into this world alone and leave it alone.

I need, absolutely, to be alone.

A great reader seldom recognizes his solitude.

I like melancholy. I like to pretend that I'm alone in the world and I'm just sort of abandoned.

There's a difference between solitude and loneliness. I can understand the concept of being a monk for a while.

I live alone, so I don't really talk to anyone once I'm home. I have some silent nights.

I remember being alone a lot as a child, and I still love to be alone.

Writing is a tribute to solitude. It is choosing introversion over extroversion, lonely hours/days/weeks/years over fun and sociability.

I kind of crave loneliness.

I like the idea of isolation. I like the reality of it. You realize what you are... not that the knowledge is inevitably rewarding.

You may not enjoy loneliness, because loneliness is sad. But solitude is something else; solitude is what you look forward to when you want to be alone, when you want to be with yourself. So, solitude is something we all need from time to time.

We must relearn to be alone.

There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone. There is an off-focus light cast by the moon, and the streetlights are part of the spotlight apparatus on a bare stage set up for you to walk through. You get a feeling of being listened to, so you talk aloud, softly, to see how it sounds.

Be a loner. That gives you time to wonder.

For now she need not think of anybody. She coud be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others... and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.

She's alone, they kept telling themselves, and surely she danced in no one's arms, yet somehow that seemed to matter less and less. As the night went on, and clarinet and coyote call mingled beyond the lantern light, the magic of their own powder-blue jackets and orchids seemed to fade, and it came to them in small sensations that they were more alone than she was.

Solitude is rich but seldom hilarious.

But the first lesson reading teaches is how to be alone.

I have not a desire but a need for solitude.

There are moments when it's too quiet. Particularly late at night or early in the mornings. That's when you know there's something lacking in your life. You just know.