Pablo Picasso Quotes

A person has to be by himself a little bit. We weren’t born in a flock. Togetherness drives me out of my mind.

It's hard to just kinda get some privacy and do your own thing.

A man can be himself only so long as he is alone.

There is a need for aloneness... for an actor.

I prize the privilege of being alone.

I need, absolutely, to be alone.

I just always wanted to be left alone to go into a creative space.

Solitude is a breeding ground for idiosyncrasy, and I relish that about it, the way it liberates whim.

I was never less alone than when by myself.

I was cut off from the world. There was no one to confuse or torment me, and I was forced to become original.

Never be the only one, except, possibly, in your own home.

The one happiness is to shut one's door upon a little room, with a table before one, and to create; to create life in that isolation from life.

Running is the one part of my life in which I fundamentally feel like the observer instead of the observed.

One of the odd enjoyments in life is to be alone in a room full of people. To have them there as unknowing human filler in your wide shot.

My 'aloneness' is extremely valuable to me.

I might have sung party numbers, but I love to party alone.

There might be some hours of loneliness. But there was something wonderful even in loneliness. At least you belonged to yourself when you were lonely.

For now she need not think of anybody. She could 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.

Solitude is the human condition in which I keep myself company. Loneliness comes about when I am alone without being able to split up into the two-in-one, without being able to keep myself company.

I am ready to be alone.

Nothing will change the fact that I cannot produce the least thing without absolute solitude.

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.

I am a free man―and I need my freedom. I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company. What do you want of me? When I have something to say, I put it in print. When I have something to give, I give it. Your prying curiosity turns my stomach! Your compliments humiliate me! Your tea poisons me! I owe nothing to any one. I would be responsible to God alone―if He existed!

Their leaving made me melancholy, though I also felt something like relief when they disappeared into the dark trees. I hadn't needed to get anything from my pack; I'd only wanted to be alone. Alone had always felt like an actual place to me, as if it weren't a state of being, but rather a room where I could retreat to be who I really was.

I go in solitude, so as not to drink out of everybody's cistern. When I am among the many I live as the many do, and I do not think I really think; after a time it always seems as if they want to banish myself from myself and rob me of my soul.