Alan Moore Quotes

Do they choose to be so dense? Were they born that way? I have no friends. I have nothing. I say nothing. I am nothing.

I don't know if I feel like an outsider or an insider; I just feel like I always did. I don't have one of those stories where I felt like no one understood me.

I just knew I was different from everyone else. I still feel like that today, sitting in rooms with people.

I was definitely always the bigger girl and kind of weird. I didn't make friends very easily and I was a big reader, so I was very antisocial, and I knew that people were judging me.

And yet I understood the alienation of being around others who couldn't really see you or chose not to. I'd felt the self-loathing that came with being a fraud, protraying an image of what you wished you could be but weren't. I'd lived with the fear that people you loved might turn away from you if they ever got to know the true person hidden inside.

I am the outcast come home to roost and the eggs of tomorrow are incubating in my fame. You hate me, you love me, you made me, and now I am in you. I am like that disease brewing in your loins and I think you like it.

I'm not stupid. I know everybody thinks I am. I just don't like answering their questions.

I was modest--they accused me of being crafty: I became secretive. I felt deeply good and evil--nobody caressed me, everybody offended me: I became rancorous. I was gloomy--other children were merry and talkative. I felt myself superior to them--but was considered inferior: I became envious. I was ready to love the whole world--none understood me: and I learned to hate.

I've never had that concern of thinking of myself as stupid.

In this lifetime you're nothing more than you appear to be: a stupid, selfish, ignorant, spoiled little girl who thinks the world lives or dies on whether she gets to go out with some good-looking boy at school. [...] I'd still relish this moment, killing you.

I’m not a romantic, I’m a half-wit. Only stupid people would think I’m smart. I’m not something anyone should know. I’m a lunatic wandering around for scraps, I’m like every single miserable moron I’ve scorned and pretended I didn’t recognize. I’m all of them, every last ugly thing in a bad last-minute costume. I’m not different, not at all, not different from any other speck of a thing. I’m a blemished blemish, a ruined ruin, a stained wreck so failed I can’t see what I used to be.

Sometimes I would get invited to a party or to go out to dinner by one of them and I would decline. Part of me wanted to go, but those kind of outings always made me feel even more alienated than usual. Hearing them talk made me feel lonely and hateful at the same time. Lonely because I didn't fit in, never did. When I was reminded, it hurt. And hateful because it reaffirmed what I already knew, that I was alone and on the outside.

I hate this fear. I hate this. I hate this world. I hate it that nobody needs me. I don’t own this world. I’ve had enough. It’s not supposed to be my fault. Only now.. Only now that I realized.. I hate this world now, living in this world where ‘promise’, ‘bond’ and ‘eternity’ don’t exist, and living in a world full fo strangers is a very, very scary thing. Scared that there’s no guarantee that I’ll be loved. You can’t be living with people surrounding you forever. You just cant. The world is too scary. - Akito

I wish I were the type who could walk into a place and have everybody love me. But I'm not, and there's no use wishing.

I have the true feeling of myself only when I am unbearably unhappy.

As a kid, I felt really weird.

I love playing strong feisty women, I really do, but if you were to ask my husband he'd probably say that I'm very insecure. And actually incredibly malleable, which isn't necessarily a good thing.

But I also think all of the great stories in literature deal with loneliness. Sometimes it's by way of heartbreak, sometimes it's by way of injustice, sometimes it's by way of fate. There's an infinite number of ways to examine it.

Only the unloved hate; the unloved and the unnatural.

Too much self-centered attitude, you see, brings, you see, isolation. Result: loneliness, fear, anger. The extreme self-centered attitude is the source of suffering.

I understand those who don't like me.

It's a sad man my friend who's livin' in his own skin and can't stand the company.

Without a family, man, alone in the world, trembles with the cold.

When you're miserable, you don't want anyone around you to be happy.

I never thought of myself as being handsome or good-looking or whatever. I always felt like an outsider.