Walter Mosley Quotes

There were people everywhere but no one was mine, and I was no one's.

There's never been a parent in my life.

I am not so different in my history of abandonment from anyone else after all. We have all been split away from the earth, each other, ourselves.

Separation penetrates the disappearing person like a pigment and steeps him in gentle radiance.

Being sent away to school was no different from my biological mother giving me away.

It's odd to think of yourself as an orphan at 55.

My wife gone, my mum gone, ostracised by my village. I was left all alone in life.

I ain't got no friends.

It suddenly seemed to me that I was lonely, that every one was forsaking me and going away from me. Of course, any one is entitled to ask who "every one" was. For though I had been living almost eight years in Petersburg I had hardly an acquaintance. But what did I want with acquaintances? I was acquainted with all Petersburg as it was.

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.

I am dead to them, even though I once flowered.

I feel like a visitor that got left behind by his ride.

The solitude of writing is also quite frightening. It's quite close to madness, one just disappears for a day and loses touch.

More and more I find myself at a loss for words and didn't want to hear other people talking either. Their conversations seemed false and empty. I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone.

I am nothing. I’m like someone who’s been thrown into the ocean at night, floating all alone. I reach out, but no one is there. I call out, but no one answers. I have no connection to anything.

Quit the world, and the world forgets you.

Long ago, when Harry had been left alone while the Dursley's went out to enjoy themselves, the hours of solitude had been a rare treat: Pausing only to sneak something tasty from the fridge, he had rushed upstairs to play on Dudley's computer, or put on the television and flicked through the channels to his heart's content. It gave him an odd empty feeling to remember those times; it was like remembering a younger brother whom he had lost.

The tragedy of this world is that everyone is alone. For a life in the past cannot be shared with the present.

From childhood's hour I have not been. As others were, I have not seen. As others saw, I could not awaken. My heart to joy at the same tone. And all I loved, I loved alone.

If you can't go home, there is nowhere to go, and nowhere is the biggest place in the world-indeed, nowhere is the world.

For the air of lonely men surrounded him now, a still atmosphere in which the world around him slipped away, leaving him incapable of relationship, an atmosphere against which neither will nor longing availed. This was one of the significant earmarks of his life.

"It is a sensation not experienced by many mortals," said he, "to be looking into a churchyard on a wild windy night, and to feel that I no more hold a place among the living than these dead do, and even to know that I lie buried somewhere else, as they lie buried here. Nothing uses me to it. A spirit that was once a man could hardly feel stranger or lonelier, going unrecognized among mankind, than I feel."

We all, sometimes, leave each other there under the skies, and we never understand why.

No one is waiting for me. In this story, I'm the girl no one is waiting for.