James M. Barrie Quotes

Lonesome. Lonesome. I know what it means. Here all by my lonesome, dreaming empty dreams. Weary. Weary at the close of day, wondering if tomorrow brings me joy or sorrow.

When I was a kid, I was so homesick at all times.

A lot of my songs are about loneliness and losing relationships. Even the ones that are happy, there's a lonely undertone to them.

There are children who will leave a game to go and be bored in a corner of the garret. How often have I wished for the attic of my boredom when the complications of life made me lose the very germ of freedom!

In some way impossible to ascertain, after so many years of absense, Jose Arcadio was still an autumnal child, terribly sad and solitary.

I was kind of sweet kid, according my mother, and my recollections. Thoughtful and good, but kind of alone - although I didn't interpret it that way, as such. Children never interpret these things. They think they understand logically.

I am half-sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Shalott.

Just pity him, my boy. Tomorrow we'll be on our way, but he'll have to keep his own disagreeable company until the day he dies.

I was always sad as a child, for as long as I can think back. I hated crowds of people, and used to sit in a corner by myself, just thinking.

Still when I lost her, I lost sight of any landmark that might have led me someplace happier, to some more populated or congenial life.

Everything about life makes me lonely.

I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others--young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.

I was an only child. I did have kind of like a lonely existence.

Stranded in this mill town railroad yard while the whole world was converging elsewhere, we seemed to be nothing but children playing among heroic men.

Separation Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.

Deep in earth my love is lying And I must weep alone.

She was lonely without Blunt, but she was lonelier at the idea that the world went on as though she had not loved him.

When you cry and weep, when you are miserable, you are alone. When you celebrate, the whole existence participates with you. Only in celebration do we meet the ultimate, the eternal. Only in celebration do we go beyond the circle of birth and death.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you: Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.

In my mind, I see a line. And over that line, I see green fields and lovely flowers and beautiful, white women with their arms stretched out to me over that line, but I can't seem to get there no how. I can't seem to get over that line.

When you don't have love, it's like there's a party going on, and everybody was invited, except for you. And you just happened to be walking by that house in the rain...

I spent my childhood alone, overweight and ugly, angry at everything, and knowing nothing of a life beyond this sadness.

Imagine how frustrating it is, being completely locked up and watching your family leave, your wife and children, and not being able to do anything about it.

I stood on the balcony dark with mourning... hoping the earth would spread its wings in my uninhabited love.

The music of an unhappy people, of the children of disappointment; they tell of death and suffering and unvoiced longing toward a truer world, of misty wanderings and hidden ways.