I think about dying. I’ve come to realize we all die alone in one way or another.

Eagles commonly fly alone. They are crows, daws, and starlings that flock together.

Life’s an awfully lonesome affair. You come into the world alone and you go out of the world alone yet it seems to me you are more alone while living than even going and coming.

When I’m alone, I can sleep crossways in bed without an argument.

My overcoat is worn out my shirts also are worn out. And I ask to be allowed to have a lamp in the evening it is indeed wearisome sitting alone in the dark.