… you would like to sit beside me while I write. Listen, in that case I could not write at all. For writing means revealing oneself to excess; that utmost of self-revelation and surrender, in which a human being, when involved with others, would feel he was losing himself, and from which, therefore, he will always shrink as long as he is in his right mind– for everyone wants to live as long as he is alive– even the degree of self-revelation and surrender is not enough for writing.
Writing that springs from the surface of existence– when there is no other way and deeper wells have dried up– is nothing, and collapses the moment a truer emotion makes the surface shake. That is why one can never be alone enough when one writes, why there can never be enough silence around one when one writes, why even night is not night enough.
― Franz Kafka
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Solitude is fine…
…but you need someone to tell that solitude is fine. ― Honoré de Balzac
Cantor illustrated the concept of infinity for his students
… by telling them that there was once a man who had a hotel with an infinite number of rooms, and the hotel was fully occupied. Then one more guest arrived. So the owner moved the guest in room number 1 into room number 2; the guest in room number 2 into number 3; the…
being alone never felt right…
…sometimes it felt good, but it never felt right. ― Charles Bukowski, Women
It is a frightful satire
… and an epigram on the modern age that the only use it knows for solitude is to make it a punishment, a jail sentence. ― Søren Kierkegaard
To Solitude
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, Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell, May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep ’Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap Startles the wild…
Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner…
…no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them. ― Jodi Picoult, My Sister’s Keeper