The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Yet it is in this loneliness that the deepest activities begin. It is here that you discover act without motion, labor that is profound repose, vision in obscurity, and, beyond all desire, a fulfillment whose limits extend to infinity.
An effort made for the happiness of others lifts above ourselves.
Solitude shows us what should be; society shows us what we are.
Solitude is pleasant. Loneliness is not.
The concept of loneliness and exile and self-sufficiency continually bucks me up.
People become attached to their burdens sometimes more than the burdens are attached to them.
While we yearn for peace, we live in a world burdened with hunger, pain, anguish, loneliness, sickness, and sorrow.
The satisfaction derived from the fleeting things of life is not lasting; and our wants remain unfulfilled. There is thus a general sense of dissatisfaction accompanied by all kinds of worries.
Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self.
Solitude begets whimsies.