Tom Robbins Quotes

When I fell out of the light, I entered The stomach of indifference, the wordless cupboard.

Wrap parties can be really sad, actually, disorienting.

Just having the pain of being alive without anything else, whether it's good or bad. There's a lot of serious songs on the record, you know. That song is just about feeling like a fish out of water, feeling like you don't belong on the planet sometimes.

Have you ever felt like a phone call that's been disconnected?

I never have anything to talk about.

Weeks go by, and I don't talk to another living soul.

I lived alone, I didn't know anybody in New York, and I was definitely a recluse. It had been, like, two weeks, and I realized I hadn't said anything. I was laying in bed, and I was like, 'Hello?' I just talked to hear my own voice. And it was such a strange feeling.

The emptiness was intense, like the stillness in a great factory when the machinery stops running.

I often feel I'm working in a vacuum, or in a country where few readers hear the sounds.

I don't think words reach people. Maybe nothing does

I ran rather than walked, anxious to lose my way. All I wanted was to be unsure.

The shadows of the room pool in the lines of our faces, draining our eyes of hue. "There's nothing left worth saying.

For all these years I kept my mouth closed so selfish desires would not fall out. And because I remained quiet for so long now my daughter does not hear me... All these years I kept my true nature hidden, running along like a small shadow so nobody could catch me. And because I moved so secretly now my daughter does not see me... We are lost, she and I, unseen and not seeing; unheard and not hearing, unknown by others.

What could be lonelier than trying to communicate?

Not that we were incompatible: we just had nothing to talk about.

Nothing echoes like an empty mailbox.

My marriage didn't make me sad, but it didn't make me happy either. My husband and I hardly spoke to each other. This wasn't because we were angry. We had nothing to say. I was dying of boredom.

In the end, the only thing between us was silence.

I wandered off, walking through streets that seemed emptier than ever, thinking that if I didn't stop, if I kept on walking, I wouldn't notice that the world I thought I knew was no longer there.

Sharing a room with a cadaver is only mildly different from being in a room alone. They are the same sort of company as people across from you on subways or in airport lounges, there but not there. Your eyes keep going back to them, for lack of anything more interesting to look at, and then you feel bad for staring.

think of nothing things think of wind

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.

There is a sad disconnectedness that overcomes a library when its owner is gone.

We're all like the little sailor. From the harbors we hear the strains of accordions and the murky soapy noises of the docks, from the mountains we receive the dish of silence that the shepherds eat, but we don't hear more than our own distances. And what distances without end and without doors and without mountains!

"Is it how she moves, or how she looks?" I say it's loneliness suspended to our own like grappling hooks, And as long as she's got noise, she's fine. But I could teach her how I learned to dance when the music's ended.