Charles Dickens Quotes

He says he’s lonely, horribly lonely because of this love he feels for her. She says she’s lonely too. She doesn’t say why.

But loneliness, true loneliness, is impossible to accustom oneself to, and while I was still young I thought of my situation as somehow temporary, and did not stop hoping and imagining that I would meet someone and fall in love...Yes, there was a time before I closed myself off to others.

I think it takes an amazing amount of energy to convince oneself that the Forever Person isn't just around the corner. In the end I believe we never do convince ourselves. I know that I found it increasingly hard to maintain the pose of emotional self-sufficiency lying on my bed and sitting at my desk, watching the gulls cartwheeling in the clouds over the bridges, cradling myself in my own arms, breathing warm chocolate-and-vodka breath on a rose I had found on a street corner, trying to force it to bloom.

It is sad not to love, but it is much sadder not to be able to love.

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 lay in bed at night crying to myself. The only one who loved me and watched over me was someone I couldn't see or hear or touch.

Loneliness surrounds me without your arms around me.

I've never wanted to be loved. And God Knows no one's done it yet.

Affection makes fools. Always, without exception, love digs a channel that's sooner or later flooded by the briny water of despair.

Loneliness is something we [all people] go through. We go through mourning and longing. We make some bad choices sometimes because we're desperate for something, and that's okay. That's part of life.

How does it feel when you're alone and you're cold inside

Nobody loves me. Sometimes I wish God could come down and hug me.

To love makes one solitary.

It's getting to the point where I am no fun anymore, I am sorry. / Sometimes it hurts so badly I must cry out loud, ' I am lonely.' / I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are, you make it hard.

All shall love me and despair.

She was tired of hugging pillows, counting on blankets for warmth, and reliving romantic moments only in her dreams. She was tired of hoping that every day would hurry so she could get on to the next. Hoping that it would be a better day, an easier day. But it never was. Worked, paid the bills, and went to bed but never slept. Each morning the weight on her shoulders got heavier and heavier and each morning she wished for night to fall quickly so she could return to her bed to hug her pillows and wrap herself in the warmth of her blankets.

But it was hard to keep his hands still. He could almost feel them twitching emphatically with his strong desire to reach out and stroke the dog's head. He had such a terrible yearning to love something again, and the dog was such a beautiful ugly dog.

I was ready to love the whole world, but no one understood me, and I learned to hate.

She's lonely and wounded and very vulnerable and it really is a story about people at the heart of it all.

People respond differently to people who are grieving. They reach out. But depression is so very isolating. It's hard to explain to anyone who has never been depressed how isolating it is. Grief comes and goes, but depression is unremitting.

You don't stop thinking about women just because your wife dies. It's terrible, but you know. I just want the hugs, the kisses. A kiss!

At the beginning and at the end of love, the two lovers are embarrassed to find themselves alone.

We all have times when we go home at night and pull out our hair and feel misunderstood and lonely and like we're falling. I think the brain is such that there is always going to be something missing.

Do you know what it's like to love and be alone?

Sadly, I haven't been doing a lot of kissing lately.