Paul Simon Quotes

My face, my self, what would they mean to anybody? Just another stiff. So this self of mine passes some other's self on the street - what do we have to say to each other? Hey there! Hi ya!That's about it. Nobody raises a hand. No one turns around to take another look.

I live here among the ignorant like a lost man in fact like one whom the rest seems careless of having anything to do with — they hardly dare talk in my company for fear I shoud mention them in my writings & I find more pleasure in wandering the fields then in mixing among my silent neighbours who are insensible of everything but toiling & talking of it & that to no purpose.

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

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.

He was slumped in the back, gazing out of the window, as though his parents were two people who had picked him up hitchhiking, connected to him merely by chance and proximity.

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.

You can touch everything and be connected to nothing.

Everyone's alone - or so it seems to me. They make noises, and think they are talking to each other; They make faces, and think they understand each other. And I'm sure they don't. Is that a delusion?

Nobody helps anybody.

The world doesn't understand me and I don't understand the world, that's why I've withdrawn from it.

I'm not very interested in people. I recognize it in myself - there is a basic indifference toward people.

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

I meet so many people, but I don't know anybody.

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.

I walked around the block twice, passed 200 people and failed to see a human being.

No one is talking. No one is emailing. No one is texting. It's spooky and scary.

Lovers lying two and two Ask not whom they sleep beside, And the bridegroom all night through Never turns him to the bride.

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

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

A lot of people are lonely. A lot of people are lonely even when they're surrounded by other people.

The loneliness of a one night stand is hard to take.

What could be lonelier than trying to communicate?

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

Loneliness Got a mind of its own The more people around The more you feel alone