Quotes
Quotes about Solitude
Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease, He makes a solitude and calls it--peace!
Perfectionism is the enemy of creation, as extreme self-solitude is the enemy of well-being.
That which the world miscalls a jail, A private closet is to me. . . . . Locks, bars, and solitude together met, Make me no prisoner, but an anchoret.
She [the Roman Catholic Church] may still exist in undiminished vigour, when some traveller from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the ruins of St. Paul's.
Where now is Britain? . . . . Even as the savage sits upon the stone That marks were stood her capitols, and hears The bittern booming in the weeds, he shrinks From the dismaying solitude.
Converse with men makes sharp the glittering wit, But God to man doth speak in solitude.
This is to be along; this, this is solitude!
In solitude, when we are least alone.
'Tis solitude should teach us how to die; It hath no flatterers; vanity can give No hollow aid; alone--man with his God must strive.
I praise the Frenchman; his remark was shrewd,-- "How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude." But grant me still a friend in my retreat, Whom I may whisper--Solitude is sweet.
O solitude, where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place.
Solitude is the nurse of enthusiasm, and enthusiasm is the true parent of genius. In all ages solitude has been called for--has been flown to.
There is a society in the deepest solitude.
Whoever gives himself up to solitude, Ah! he is soon alone. [Ger., Wer sich der Einsamkeit ergiebt, Ach! der ist bald allein.]
O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,-- Nature's observatory--whence the dell, In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
Sorrow preys upon Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it From its sad visions of the other world Than calling it at moments back to this. The busy have no time for tears.
Where should the scholar live? In solitude, or in society? in the green stillness of the country, where he can hear the heart of Nature beat, or in the dark, gray town where he can hear and feel the throbbing heart of man?
In the desert a fountain is springing, In the wide waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing, Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
One hour of thoughtful solitude may nerve the heart for days of conflict - girding up its armor to meet the most insidious foe.
. . . solitude is such a potential thing. We hear voices in solitude, we never hear in the hurry and turmoil of life; we receive counsels and comforts, we get under no other condition . . .
