'Tis solitude should teach us how to die; It hath no flatterers; vanity can give No hollow aid; alone--man with his God must strive.

Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.

In solitude, when we are least alone.

Among them, but not of them.

This is to be along; this, this is solitude!

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.