Together But Alone Quotes

. . . my fear, my joy more horrible than my fear, my obscene words, my words which are keys locking me into a mirror, with you, but ever alone. ~ Alejandra Pizarnik

While Kalila didn't quite know what she wanted, she knew what she didn't want. She didn't want to live a charade. She didn't want a marriage of convenience where you were together but alone. ~ Christian F. Burton

Now for some hope. It's Easter Sunday. The day that is usually spent with family and friends. This year is more chill. That's all. Just hanging out by staying in. ON the other side of this we will all talk about this time. It will be like where you were for the great quake of 1989 or 9-11 or where you were when JFK was shot. It's going to be one of those kinds of moments. BUT the we made it through those times. We will make it through this. We are stronger together. Plus we will have a big Easter together next year! This year let's all just chill in place. ~ Johnny Corn

Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds,
Exhilirate the spirit, and restore
The tone of languid nature. ~ William Cowper

He argued unconvincingly that they would let him alone, perhaps even make an outlaw of him. But then the fatal unreasoning knowledge came to him again. The breaking of the conch and the death of Piggy and Simon lay over the island like a vapor. These painted savages would go further and further. Then there was that indefinable connection between himself and Jack; who therefore would never let him alone; never. ~ William Golding

I want to be alone and work until the day my heads hits the drawing table and I'm dead. Kaput. I feel very much like I want to be with my brother and sister again. They're nowhere. I know they're nowhere and they don't exist, but if nowhere means that's where they are, that's where I want to be. ~ Maurice Sendak

No, Faith ain't gonna get charged with assault. I'm not even sure the incident occurred cause neither are you. You get three days off on the Alpha to get your head back together. Then you decide if you want to help out or go in a hold. Or, hell, I'll drop you off at a little town and you can fight zombies for supplies and fish for your supper. If you decide you want to help, God knows we need people who can organize and you should be able to do that. But if so, you're going to have to climb down. And you sure as shit had better figure out a way to apologize to Lieutenant Smith or at some point you're going to end up shark bait. Because the Marines, with the exception of Captain Milo 'I'm scared of zombies' Wilkes, just absolutely hate your fucking guts. And the one group you do not want pissed off at you in this Squadron is the fucking Marines. And of all the Marines, the one you seriously do not want to get on the bad side of is Faith Marie Smith. They call her Shewolf for a reason… ~ John Ringo

It's far from a pleasant thing to be plotting about a dead man in the room where he died, especially when you happen to live in it." "But we are plotting nothing against him, Tony." "May be not, still I don't like it. Live here by yourself and see how YOU like it." "As to dead men, Tony," proceeds Mr. Guppy, evading this proposal, "there have been dead men in most rooms." "I know there have, but in most rooms you let them alone, and - and they let you alone," Tony answers. The two look ~ Charles Dickens

Now, but these three," cried Jurgen, "are the glory of Philistia: and of all that Philistia has produced, it is these three alone, whom living ye made least of, that today are honored wherever art is honored, and where nobody bothers one way or the other about Philistia. ~ James Branch Cabell

Q7. The total output of all the mathematicians who have ever lived, together with the output of all the human mathematicians of the next (say) thousand years is finite and could be contained in the memory banks of an appropriate computer. Surely this particular computer could, therefore, simulate this output and thus behave (externally) in the same way as a human mathematician-whatever the Godel argument might appear to tell us to the contrary?

While this is presumably true, it ignores the essential issue, which is how we (or computers) know which mathematical statements are true and which are false. (In any case, the mere storage of mathematical statements is something that could be achieved by a system much less sophisticated than a general purpose computer, e.g. photographically.) The way that the computer is being employed in Q7 totally ignores the critical issue of truth judgment. One could equally well envisage computers that contain nothing but lists of totally false mathematical 'theorems', or lists containing random jumbles of truths and falsehoods. How are we to tell which computer to trust? The arguments that I am trying to make here do not say that an effective simulation of the output of conscious human activity (here mathematics) is impossible, since purely by chance the computer might 'happen' to get it right-even without any understanding whatsoever. But the odds against this are absurdly enormous, and the issues that are being addressed here, namel ~ Roger Penrose

Wandering across a city - walking often quite alone, down dark alleys, through unfrequented districts and debouching suddenly onto main thoroughfares where for a spell one follows the main stream, is adopted by a group "he has come where we come from, wants to go where we want to go". For a while it is true but the side streets are there. Pause in one of them for a moment, and the stream has moved on. So, as there is no catching up with the group, there is no more reason to return to the main street than to wander away from it... more alleys... more thoroughfares... Where shall we be sleeping tonight? And those odd encounters of eyes in lonely alleys... ~ Nanamoli Thera

What I'd like more than anything," he said quietly, "is for you to listen to an apology."
"You have nothing to apologize for."
"I'm afraid I do." He let out a measured breath. "But first, I have something to give you."
He went to a cabinet in a corner of the room and rummaged through its contents. Finding the object he sought... a small book... he brought it to her.
Phoebe blinked in wonder as she read the gold and black lettering on the battered cloth cover. The title was worn and faded, but still legible.

Stephen Armstrong: Treasure Hunter

Opening the book with unsteady fingers, she found the words written on the inside cover in her own childish hand, long ago.

Dear Henry, whenever you feel alone, look for the kisses I left for you on my favorite pages.

Blinded by a hot, stinging blur, Phoebe closed the book. Even without looking, she knew there were tiny x's in the margins of several chapters. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Re: Robert Montgomery's Poems His writing bears the same relation to poetry which a Turkey carpet bears to a picture. There are colours in the Turkey carpet out of which a picture might be made. There are words in Mr. Montgomery's writing which, when disposed in certain orders and combinations,have made, and will make again, good poetry. But, as they now stand, they seem to be put together on principle in such a manner as to give no image of anything in the heavens above, or in the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth. ~ Thomas B. Macaulay

I waited for years for my infatuation to blow over, managing it like a chronic illness. But suppression only sustains and intensifies passion instead of letting it peter out into domesticity, the way the narrow glass canyons of Manhattan Venturi the winds to a pitch that rips umbrellas inside out. Kati Jo used to say she wished Lauren and I could just fuck so I'd get it out of my system, but I never wanted anything as feasible as an affair. I never imagined that Lauren might leave her husband, or entertained shameful little daydreams about his death. The only scenario I could plausibly picture that would bring us together was not Lars's death but my own. I would contract some painless terminal illness that would entitle me to ask Lauren to sit at my bedside in my last months and read to me or bring me little sandwiches. I couldn't envision any realistic way of changing this world; what I wanted was to live in a different one. I was never really a reformer, but a utopian. ~ Tim Kreider

Hawai'i has often been called a melting pot, but I think of it more as a 'mixed plate'
a scoop of rice with gravy, a scoop of macaroni salad, a piece of mahi-mahi, and a side of kimchi. Many different tastes share the plate, but none of them lose their individual flavor, and together they make up a uniquely 'local' cuisine. This is also, I believe, what America is at its best
a whole greater than the sum of it's parts. ~ Alan Brennert

I like to share, because if I do not share, I'll do exactly the same thing, but unfortunately alone. ~ Oscar P M Lopes

These were the rains that drove people close to the walls, under the balconies, or sent them dashing madly through the squares, and drenched the fluttering ribbons and bright trappings of the horses so that their flanks were streaked with delicate watercolors. The storms washed the streets so that little streams of brown water went roaring along the gutters toward the sea, and thundered on the roofs of the cafés where people were crowded together laughing in the steam and half darkness. I loved those rains; they were of the sort that is welcomed by everyone, preceded by hot, oppressive hours of stillness; they came the way storms come in the islands but did not last as long, and often the sun came out when they had passed. I was happy whenever the rain caught me walking about in the streets, for then I would rush into the nearest café, along with all the others who were escaping from the weather, all of us crushing laughing through the doors. The rain allowed me to go anywhere, to form quick, casual friendships, forced to share one of the overcrowded tables, among the beaming waiters who pushed good-naturedly through the throngs carrying cups of steaming apple cider. ~ Sofia Samatar

Besides the neutral expression that she wore when she was alone, Mrs. Freeman had two others, forward and reverse, that she used for all her human dealings. Her forward expression was steady and driving like the advance of a heavy truck. Her eyes never swerved to left or right but turned as the story turned as if they followed a yellow line down the center of it. She seldom used the other expression because it was not often necessary for her to retract a statement, but when she did, her face came to a complete stop, there was an almost imperceptible movement of her black eyes, during which they seemed to be receding, and then the observer would see that Mrs. Freeman, though she might stand there as real as several grain sacks thrown on top of each other, was no longer there in spirit. ~ Flannery O'Connor

I will grant you one wish, for your birthday. Anything at all, except sex."
"Wait…what?"
"You heard me. So what do you want?" Grayson questioned, keeping calm about the whole thing.
Konnor thought those words over in his head again. He was literally telling him he could do what he wanted with him, as a birthday treat, as long as they didn't sleep together.
"Wait a minute. Are you saying that if I wanted to…" he asked, but found that he didn't want to embarrass Grayson by saying it. His eyes went there any way. They focused on his crotch withoutshame, wondering if he would get to remove clothes.
"Yes," he nodded.
"And you'd let me? Why?" he asked, too stunned to do anything else but ask.
"Because it's not your fault I'm straight. And it's not your fault you're attracted to me. If I can't give you everything you want I can at least give you a birthday to remember, right?" Grayson smiled.
Konnor felt like kissing him so hard he wouldn't be straight any more. ~ Elaine White

In your body, there exists a subtle current of electricity, very subtle. But the subtler it is, the deeper it goes. It is not very visible. Scientists say that all the electricity that is in your body, if put together, can be used to light a five-candle bulb. It is not much. Quantitatively it is not much, quantitatively the atom is not much, but qualitatively ... If it explodes, it has tremendous energy in it. ~ Rajneesh

The tales of pure terror, of course, are completely naturalistic in their content, and must stand or fall by their merit alone. But what about the supernatural stories? Can we, the children of a scientific age, give any credence to these medleys of devils, ghosts, and other psychical invasions? There is only one answer: we can and do. We are dealing with stories, not with scientific dissertations. And if, as stories, they have the ring of truth, we'll believe them, as stories, implicitly.
("Introduction") ~ Herbert A. Wise

But we were never really - together. Even when we made love. ~ John Edward Williams

Ah, God, it were an easy Matter to choose a Calling had
one all Time to live in! I should be fifty Years a
Barrister, fifty a Physician, fifty a Clergyman, fifty a
Soldier! Aye, and fifty a Thief, and fifty a Judge! All
Roads are fine Roads, beloved Sister, none more than
another, so that with one Life to spend I am a Man
bare-bumm'd at Taylors with Cash for but one pair of
Breeches, or a Scholar at Brookstalls with Money for a
single Book: to choose ten were no Trouble; to choose one,
impossible! All Trades, all Crafts, all Professions are
wondrous, but none is finer than the rest together. I
cannot choose, sweet Anna: twixt Stools my Breech falleth
to the Ground! ~ John Barth

shy but handsome fellow is sitting at a club, sipping a cocktail, and sees a beautiful woman seated alone at the bar. After an hour of screwing up his courage he finally heads over to her and asks tentatively, "Um, hi. Would you mind if I chatted with you for a while?" She responds by yelling, at the top of her lungs, "No, I won't sleep with you tonight!" Everyone in the bar turns in unison and stares at them. Naturally, the poor guy is hopelessly ~ Various

They're done by guys who have talked a good game and then have scrambled together the simulacrum of a drama, so actors are habituated to sometimes having to save a picture on the floor because it's usually part of their job, but they'd rather have a writer doing his job, so that they can do theirs. But I like nothing better than working with actors. ~ William Monahan

I really doubt my parents are going to let me stay the night in a remote cabin with a bunch of boys."
"Oh, please, Snow White, Mike's dad'll be there. He's actually kinda funny…you know, in a weird dad kind of way. Don't worry, your purity will remain intact. Scout's honor." She made some sort of gesture with her fingers that Violet assumed was supposed to be an oath, but since Chelsea had never actually been a Girl Scout, it ended up looking more like a peace sign. Or something. Violet maintained her dubious expression.
But Chelsea wasn't about to be discouraged, and she tried to be the voice of reason. "Come on, I think Jay's checking to see if he can get the time off work. The least you can do is ask your parents. If they say no, then no harm, no foul, right? If they say yes, then we'll have a kick-ass time. We'll go hiking in the snow and hang out in front of the fireplace in the evening. We'll sleep in sleeping bags and maybe even roast some marshmallows. It'll be like we're camping." She beamed a superfake smile at Violet and clasped her hands together like she was begging. "Do it for me. Ple-eease."
Jules came back with their milk shake. It was strawberry, and Chelsea flashed Violet an I-told-you-so grin.
Violet finished her tea, mulling over the idea of spending the weekend in a snowy cabin with Jay and Chelsea. Away from town. Away from whoever was leaving her dead animals and creepy notes.
It did sound fun, and Violet did love the snow. And ~ Kimberly Derting

The situation with Jordan was starting to seem too real for his comfort. This normally would be the point when he, sensing a possible attachment, would back away from the situation. But with her, he was trapped. Consequently, all he could do was carry on as usual, being that guy who didn't let things become real, who was always handy with a quip but didn't have feelings deeper than that.

Because he didn't. Undercover agents didn't allow themselves to become attached to a case or anyone involved with it.

He wasn't complaining - he'd signed on for this. He'd worked hard to get where he was, and being the best undercover agent in the Chicago field office was a major accomplishment. It was his specialty, the thing that differentiated him from the other agents in the office. Without that distinction, he'd be just another guy with a badge, a gun, and cool facial scruff. Hell, he'd be Pallas.

That alone was more than enough motivation to get his head back in the game. ~ Julie James

Are you sure you're all right?" Oscar asked.
"I'm sure." The sound of their voices disturbed the night, and her dishonesty disturbed her. How could she be all right? She'd been abducted at knifepoint. She'd heard the chanting again and seen the eerie black skeletal face on the bathwater's surface. What were those things, if not part of the Umandu curse?
"Are you sure he didn't touch you?" Oscar asked, the softness of his question poles apart from the anger and irritation he'd shown all day. It was obvious he didn't want to go chasing after Umandu, but she couldn't imagine the prospect of bringing her father back to life would make him so sour.
Camille sat up, holding the thin blanket around her neck. An odd thought struck her: They were on land, alone in a room, and they hadn't yet struggled with an awkward stretch of silence. Camille liked the change and hoped it stuck.
Oscar lay on the floor, beneath the double windows. He had one arm over his chest, the other behind his head. He saw her and pushed himself up, his own covers loose around his waist. He still wore his clothes, and she grinned, knowing it was for her benefit only. He'd be sweating rivers tonight in the heavy heat. Oscar wrapped his arm around one knee.
"You have no idea what went through my mind tonight when I found that bathtub empty," he whispered. "I can't let anything happen to you, Camille."
She sat up a little straighter, hoping he wouldn't pledge his protection just to hon ~ Angie Frazier

Women and men just aren't that different. Oh, we're different in some intriguing ways, and it can be fun to band together for all-gal or all-guy projects. But when it comes to the tragic mess Christ came to heal, we're pretty much the same. ~ Frederica Mathewes-Green

To be commanded to love God at all, let alone in the wilderness, is like being commanded to be well when we are sick, to sing for joy when we are dying of thirst, to run when our legs are broken. But this is the first and great commandment nonetheless. Even in the wilderness - especially in the wilderness - you shall love him. ~ Frederick Buechner

Here's the weird part: even when I was in the darkest and most despairing times of my depression, I still found depression funny. It was funny to me that the illness distorted my view of the real world like a funhouse mirror. It was funny that I could be immobilized by something that had no basis in a broken bone or bacteria or any tangible factor. And when other people, especially comedians and writers, shared their experiences with depression and those experiences were resonant with my own, I could laugh because we were all getting fooled together. I laughed in the same way an audience laughs at a particularly good trick pulled off by a magician. "We've all been deceived, but we don't know how! ~ John Moe

I certainly think so, and I argue so, and I give talks on that. Are there risks by putting people together? Absolutely. Is there value in the black church? Absolutely. Is there value in having immigrant churches? Absolutely. But if we don't have congregations gathering with people of different races, what we're doing is we are redefining racial division, a racial inequality. ~ Michael Emerson

Indeed taking all the evidence together, it is not too much to say that there is no single historic incident better or more variously supported than the Resurrection of Christ. Nothing but the antecedent assumption that it must be false could have suggested the idea of deficiency in the proof of it. ~ Brooke Foss Westcott

The world isn't always what's right in front of you, you know? It's below, it's above, it's out there somewhere. Every burn of every light inside every house I see when I look down from the rooftop has a story. Sometimes we just need to change our perspective.
And when I look down at everything, I remember that there's more out there than just what's going on in my house - the bullshit with my dad, school, my future. I look at all those full houses, and I remember, I'm just one of many. It's not to say we're not special or important, but it's comforting, I guess. You don't feel so alone. ~ Penelope Douglas

Once we are bound together to our brothers by a common good that is outside us, then we can breathe. Experience teaches us that love is not to gaze at one another but to gaze in the same direction. There is no comradeship except through unity on the same rope, climbing towards the same peak. ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

Those demons crawled again under my blanket and they joined me in bed,
They sang me a song of sorrows, wars, and all those flashbacks that fuck up the peace of my head.
But that night ; I was deaf,
So damn numb that none of them could affect me,
None of them could bring me any kind of nightmares nor regrets.
I had nothing to lose,
had nothing to defend .
So we hugged and traveled together through a world we only both enjoyed ; a world of nothingness and creepy emptiness … ~ Samiha Totanji

I think maybe she could be my girlfriend. I don't want to be her girlfriend, though. But there's this part of me that totally knows I could be her boyfriend. I don't want her to think of me as a boy, or a boy substitute, though. I want to be a boyfriend who is a girl. I have no idea how to explain that stuff to anyone, let alone a girl I like. I just wish it was already all understood. ~ M-E Girard

But it's not enough! So long as the most powerful of the Epics consider themselves immune, nothing will change. So long as you leave them alone, you're essentially proving what they've always said! That if an Epic is strong enough, he can take what he wants, do what he wants. You're saying they deserve to rule. ~ Brandon Sanderson

Wenner began a campaign to get his parents back together. Sim told her son she wanted him to call only every other week to reduce her phone bills. "Your demand that Dad and I be something to each other that we're not, is basically a child's demand," she wrote to him in 1959, when Wenner was thirteen. "One stamps one's foot and says, 'Change the world and I will be all right!' and it's a nice comforting thought to have, but the world can't be changed, families can't be changed, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers…There is only one thing that can be changed, or rather, only one thing that you can change, and that is yourself." ("Maternally yours," she signed the letter.) ~ Joe Hagan

Hugo has been infinitely tender with me, but while he talks of June I think of our hands locked together. She does not reach the same sexual center of my being that man reaches; she does not touch that. What, then, has she moved in me? I have wanted to possess her as if I were a man, but I have also wanted her to love me with the eyes, the hands, the senses that only women have. It is a soft and subtle penetration. ~ Anais Nin

Have you talked about how many children you'd like to have?"
"Yes, sir," Marlboro Man said.
"And?" Father Johnson prodded.
"I'd like to have six or so," Marlboro Man answered, a virile smile spreading across his face.
"And what about Ree?" Father Johnson asked.
"Well, she says she'd like to have one," Marlboro Man said, looking at me and touching my knee. "But I'm workin' on her."
Father Johnson wrinkled his brow.
"How do you and Ree resolve conflict?"
"Well…," Marlboro Man replied. "To tell you the truth, we haven't really had much conflict to speak of. We get along pretty darn well."
Father Johnson looked over his glasses. "I'm sure you can think of something." He wanted some dirt.
Marlboro Man tapped his boot on the sterile floor of Father Johnson's study and looked His Excellence straight in the eye. "Well, she fell off her horse once when we went riding together," he began. "And that upset her a little bit. And a while back, I dragged her to a fire with me and it got a little dicey…" Marlboro Man and I looked at each other. It was the largest "conflict" we'd had, and it had lasted fewer than twelve hours.
Father Johnson looked at me. "How did you deal with that, Ree?"
I froze. "Uh…uh…" I tapped my Donald Pliner mule on the floor. "I told him how I felt. And after that it was fine."
I hated every minute of this. I didn't want to be examined. I didn't want my relationship with Marlboro Man to be dissected wit ~ Ree Drummond

Consider the whole universe whereof thou art but a very little part, and the whole age of the world together, whereof but a short and very momentary portion is allotted unto thee, and all the fates and destinies together, of which how much is it that comes to thy part and share. ~ Marcus Aurelius