Charles Simic Quotes

Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn.

We are one...alone...and only...and we love you who are one...alone...and only. We looked into each other's eyes and we knew the breath of a miracle had touched us, and fled, and left us groping vainly. And we felt torn, torn for some word we could not find.

You said you're going far away," Tamaru said. "How far away are we talking about?" "It's a distance that can't be measured." "Like the distance that separates one person's heart from another's.

Whoever has no house now, will never have one. Whoever is alone will stay alone, will sit, read, write long letters through the evening, and wander on the boulevards, up and down, restlessly, while dry leaves are blowing.

People who were born alone are defined by feelings like "Who's gonna be with me when I die? Who will ever understand me? Will I always feel so alone? Maybe if I write a book..." and you forget that that doesn't help you so much.

Not much touches us, but we long to be touched. We lie awake at night willing the darkness to part and show us a vision.

I'm lonely and I'm still kind of searching for someone I can have a real connection with.

My chest ached, my body speaking a language my head didn't quite understand. I waited. But Grace, the only person in the world I wanted to know me, just ran a wanting finger over the cover of one of the new hardcovers and walked out of the store without ever realising I was there, right within reach.

All we really want in life is to connect to other human beings, and when you desperately want to connect physically to one specific human being and you can't? That's something I find compelling.

I've never really had anybody close to me die. I think the song is about a feeling that I have that, it still applies. It's a feeling of longing, once again.

In the silence of night I have often wished for just a few words of love from one man, rather than the applause of thousands of people.

Misanthropy is born, I think, out of an almost oppressive sense of loneliness, a conviction that there's no one on earth who understands you. I don't think misanthropes hate people: They hate that people hate them.

You reach out your hand, but you're all alone, in those time passages.

The poem is sad because it wants to be yours, and cannot be.

I'm homesick all the time. I miss my animals. I miss my family. I miss my friends.

My entire soul is a cry, and all my work is a commentary on that cry.

Moon! Moon! I am prone before you. Pity me, and drench me in loneliness.

At the innermost core of all loneliness is a deep and powerful yearning for union with one's lost self.

I understand being alone. I understand not liking it, wishing for something else.

I pity my brother Ferdinand, knowing by my own feelings how sad a thing it is to live apart from one's family.

Chekhov is this poet of melancholy and isolation and of wishing you were somewhere else than where you are.

Total intimacy is a myth; that said, a particular kind of loneliness can be both beautiful and fruitful.

I'm a silly little needy person sometimes, and I crouch in a room all alone and think of all the people that I wish were with me.

I think everyone is lonely whether you are in a good marriage or a bad marriage somewhere down the line you become lonely, and to get rid of that loneliness you have to try really hard.

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough