“But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness.
The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles.
The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o’clock in the morning.”—Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.
“Human beings are funny. They long to be with the person they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worst, returned. But one thing about human beings puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection even if it kills them slowly within.”—Sigmund Freud