"Loneliness" is a short-story by Charles Bukowski collected in his 1973 collection South of No North, originally published by John Martin's Black Sparrow Press. It's the first short-story of the book.
“My people were once around me like the sands of the shore—many—many. They have all passed away. They have died like the grass. They have gone to the mountains. I do not complain; the antelope falls with the arrow. I had a son. I loved him. When the palefaces came he went away. I do not know where he is. I am a Christian Indian; I am all that is left of my people. I am alone.”
“Who knows what true happiness is? Not the conventional word but the naked terror. To the lonely themselves, it wears a mask. The most miserable outcast hugs some memory or some illusion.”
“It is loneliness that makes the loudest noise. This is as true of men as of dogs.”
“It has been said that people of the modern world suffer a great sadness, a "species loneliness"—estrangement from the rest of Creation. We have built this isolation with our fear, with our arrogance, and with our homes brightly lit against the night.”
“From now on, everything in life will appear blurry to me. What’s the point of wiping my glasses when my vision has already left me?”
“The loneliest moment in life is when you have just experienced the ultimate, and it has let you down.”
Quotes via Wikiquote (CC BY-SA), each with its original source.
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