“This is a tightly planned little house. He often feels protected by its smallness; there is hardly room enough here to feel lonely.”

“He crosses the front room, which he calls his study, and comes down the staircase. The stairs turn a corner; they are narrow and steep. You can touch both handrails with your elbows, and you have to bend your head, even if, like George, you are only five eight. This is a tightly planned little house. He often feels protected by its smallness; there is hardly room enough here to feel lonely. Nevertheless.”

“Did you ever walk through a room that's packed with people, and feel so lonely you can hardly take the next step?”

“The hungry feeling and the lonely feeling merged until it was hard to tell them apart.”

“We live in the same house but we both feel lonely. We and lonely don't belong in the same sentence.”

“I feel alone.I don't mean i feel lonely; I mean i feel alone, the same way i feel the blanket resting on my body, or the feathers of my pillow under my head, or the tight string of my sleep pants twisted up around my waist. I feel alone as if it were an actual thing, seeping throughout this whole level like mist blanketing a field, reaching into all the hidden corners of my room and finding nothing living but me. It's a cold sort of feeling, this.”