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Quote by Søren Kierkegaard

“On the whole, the longing for solitude is a sign that there still is spirit in a person and is the measure of what spirit there is. [...] In antiquity as well as in the Middle Ages there was an awareness of this longing for solitude and a respect for what it means; whereas in the constant sociality of our day we shrink from solitude to the point (what a capital epigram!) that no use for it is known other than as a punishment for criminals.”

Quote by Søren Kierkegaard

Book:The Sickness Unto Death: A Christian Psychological Exposition for Upbuilding and Awakening
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The Sickness Unto Death: A Christian Psychological Exposition for Upbuilding and Awakening

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Søren Kierkegaard

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“It is this nothingness (in solitude) that I have to face in my solitude, a nothingness so dreadful that everything in me wants to run to my friends, my work, and my distractions so that I can forget my nothingness and make myself believe that I am worth something. The task is to persevere in my solitude, to stay in my cell until all my seductive visitors get tired of pounding on my door and leave me alone. The wisdom of the desert is that the confrontation with our own frightening nothingness forces us to surrender ourselves totally and unconditionally to the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Solitude
Book:The Way of the Heart: A Study of Contemplative Prayer and Inner Devotion
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“গভীর রাতে ঘুম ভেঙ্গে যায় প্রায়ই। ছাড়া ছাড়া অর্থহীন স্বপ্ন দেখতে দেখতে হঠাৎ জেগে উঠি। পরিচিত বিছানায় শুয়ে আছি, এই ধারণা মনে আসতেও সময় লাগে। মাথার কাছের জানালা মনে হয় সরে গেছে পায়ের কাছে। তৃষ্ণা বোধ হয়। বিছানার পাশে পানির বোতল। হাত বাড়িয়ে টেনে নিলেই হয়, অথচ ইচ্ছে হয় না । কোনো কোনো রাতে অপূর্ব জোছনা হয়। সারা ঘর নরম আলোয় ভাসতে থাকে। ভাবি, একা একা বেড়ালে বেশ হতো। আবার চাদর মুড়ি দিয়ে নিজেকে গুটিয়ে ফেলি। যেন বাইরের উথাল পাথাল চাঁদের আলোর সঙ্গে আমার কোনো যোগ নেই ।”

SolitudeEstrangement
Book:শঙ্খনীল কারাগার
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“As he took possession of it, he was overcome by a sense of something like sacred awe. He carefully spread his horse blanket on the ground as if dressing an altar and lay down on it. He felt blessedly wonderful. He was lying a hundred and fifty feet below the earth, inside the loneliest mountain in France - as if in his own grave. Never in his life had he felt so secure, certainly not in his mother's belly. The world could go up on flames out there, but he would not even notice it here. He even began to cry softly. He did not know who to thank for such good fortune.”

Solitude
Book:Perfume: The Story of a Murderer
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