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Quote by Wynn Wilder

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Wynn Wilder

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“Kesepian seperti puzzle raksasa. Cara berdamai dengannya adalah dengan mencari dan menghubungkan kepingan-kepingan itu. Keluarga yang hangat adalah satu kepingan kecil nan berharga. Teman yang suportif adalah kepingan kecil lain. Kekasih sejati bisa jadi kepingan yang sedikit lebih besar. Besar atau kecilnya ukuran kepingan itu, tergantung caramu menilai kepingan-kepingan itu.”

LifeRelationshipsFamilyLonelinessSelf HelpPuzzle
Book:Loneliness Is My Best Friend
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“Why these daily wanderings through the streets? And all these human beings I encountered: how could they possibly help me? Each of them filled the universe with his or her person. I would trail humbly after them, expecting the unworkable miracle from the first person I bumped into. Then, in order to prove to myself that I was not merely this pitiful rag, this insubstantial object, I would force myself to hate them, well knowing that my hate was artificial, that it too had no existence, that I was turning it on like a lamp in a ruin that had stood deserted for hundreds of years, as though this light was all that was needed to establish the belief that it was lived-in. And I was incapable of retaining my hold even on hate. It gave me the slip, like all the rest, like everything around me. All I could do was roam the streets, an innocent in quest of a miracle.”

LonelinessGhostIsolationAlienationDissociationAnna LangfusThe Lost Shore
Author:Anna Langfus; Peter Wiles
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“Very swiftly I calculated: forty-seven minus forty-four equals three; twenty-two plus three equals twenty-five. He was still facing me across the table. He smiled at me slowly, lazily. He had plenty of time. A lifetime. A lifetime throughout which his chest would go on and on rising and falling, throughout which he would be perfectly free to talk and smile and drink menthes à l’eau in the summer heat. I hated him. I hated him for being twenty-five and for throwing his young life in my face, like a provocation. The café reeled, the waiter, holding his tray high in the air, multiplied between me and the door, the door was fleeing, hiding, stealing along the walls ... A voice behind me was thundering: ‘Waiter! Somebody was still clamouring for the waiter, and it was a voice choking with anguish. In the shadowy room, expressionless faces were bobbing about with grotesque solemnity, as though suspended from invisible wires. The scream which I let out, and which I alone heard, died among the street noises. I stopped running. I walked, like everyone else. I drew breath. And a thought occurred to me, the thought shared by everyone else: ‘‘Isn’t it hot!”

LossLonelinessHatredAngerIsolationAlienationDissociationAnna LangfusThe Lost Shore
Book:The Lost Shore
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