If I could always read I should never feel the want of company.

Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt
In solitude, where we are least alone.

To fly from, need not be to hate, makind: All are not fit with them to stir and toil, Nor is it discontent to keep the mind Deep in its fountain. - Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, 1818.

I am so convinced of the advantages of looking at mankind instead of reading about them, . . . that I think there should be a law amongst us to set our young men abroad for a term among the few allies our wars have left us.

Loneliness, she thought, was craving for other people's company. But she did not know that loneliness can be an unnoticed cramping of the spirit for lack of companionship.

I realize, for the first time, how very lonely I've been in the arena. How comforting the presence of another human being can be.