Douglas Adams Quotes

I am an unpopular electric eel in a pool of catfish.

I don't know. I think it's funny! I think it's funny! I go, what? It's so absurd. I'm alone.

I'm shooting in Brooklyn, we've got all kinds of crap going on, and I'm all alone now in a big hotel suite that you can't believe the size of it and a thing sticks in my foot and I just think it's the funniest thing that's ever happened to me.

There is no pleasure to me without communication: there is not so much as a sprightly thought comes into my mind that it does not grieve me to have produced alone, and that I have no one to tell it to.

If only I could find a guy who wasn't in his 70s to talk to me about white cranes, I'd be madly in love.

The desert has its holiness of silence, the crowd its holiness of conversation.

I had friends, but I was always a bit weird.

The myth of my solitude makes me laugh.

Hanging out with the Trees is like hanging out with your family, and I hardly ever see my family.

Solitude is a condition best enjoyed in company.

If all the fools in this world should die, lordly God how lonely I should be.

Oh, well, if you want original conversations, you'd better go and talk to yourself.

'The difficulty with this conversation,' said Arthur after a sort of pondering look had crawled slowly across his face like a mountaineer negotiating a tricky outcrop, 'is that it's very different from most of the ones I've had of late. Which, as I explained, have mostly been with trees.'

Laughter almost ever cometh of things most disproportioned to ourselves and nature: delight hath a joy in it either permanent or present; laughter hath only a scornful tickling.

The voice of life in me cannot reach the ear of life in you; but let us talk that we may not feel lonely.

For the first time in four billion years a living creature had contemplated himself and heard with a sudden, unaccountable loneliness, the whisper of the wind in the night reeds.

The glacier knocks in the cupboard, The desert sighs in the bed, And the crack in the teacup opens A lane to the land of the dead.

Deprived of human intercourse, I inevitably overvalue the imagination and expect it to make the mundane glow with an aura of self-transcendence. Yet why these glorious sunsets, I ask myself, if nature does not speak to us with tongues of fire.

It's just as easy to be lonely in a city as out in the wilderness. Easier, really. It's harder to get to know someone when you meet in a crowded place. People can freely ignore you in the city; they can assume they don't have any responsibility for you. When there are fewer people, (...) they begin assuming some kind of responsibility, simply because you naturally do the same.

People say strange things, the boy thought. Sometimes it's better to be with the sheep, who don't say anything. And better still to be alone with one's books. They tell their incredible stories at the time when you want to hear them. But when you're talking to people, they say some things that are so strange that you don't know how to continue the conversation.

The once red leaf, the last of its clan, that dances as often as dance it can.

Humans are almost always lonely.

People have forgotten what the human touch is, what it is to smile, for somebody to smile at them, somebody to recognize them, somebody to wish them well. The terrible thing is to be unwanted.

Society, as we have constituted it, will have no place for me, has none to offer; but Nature, whose sweet rains fall on unjust and just alike, will have clefts in the rocks where I may hide, and secret valleys in whose silence I may weep undisturbed. She will hang the night with stars so that I may walk abroad in the darkness without stumbling, and send the wind over my footprints so that none may track me to my hurt: she will cleance me in the great waters, and with bitter herbs make me whole.

Metallic trees. That's new. If you see any steel dryads, be sure to tell me so I can run away screaming.