We are not lonely, because we chose to be alone.
We are not lost, because we chose to disappear.

My loneliness was an important part of my own little universe, not some pathological disease that needs to be gotten [sic] rid of.

Lying in the bed that had once held two, Lisey thought alone never felt more lonely than when you woke up and discovered you still had the house to yourself. That you and the mice in the walls were the only ones still breathing.

There is no doubt that solitude is a challenge and to maintain balance within it a precarious business. But I must not forget that, for me, being with people or even with one beloved person for any length of time without solitude is even worse. I lose my center. I feel dispersed, scattered, in pieces. I must have time alone in which to mull over my encounter, and to extract its juice, its essence, to understand what has really happened to me as a consequence of it.

I like working alone. I feel freer, less constrained. I know what I have to do and I try to do it. There are no superficial hangups.

There is lonely, and there is alone time. I have found that both have etched character upon my soul.