For in spite of language, in spite of intelligence and intuition and sympathy, one can never really communicate anything to anybody.

And sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to describe them in.

I am lonesome for all the conversations we never had.

Words as to the inner emotions do not come readily to me, for I have led an isolated life mentally and spiritually.

We didn't say anything because there was such an awful lot to say, and no language to say it in.

Without language you can't feel that you have a legitimate, respected presence. You are without a voice, without power.

April 27. Incapable of living with people, of speaking. Complete immersion in myself, thinking of myself. Apathetic, witless, fearful. I have nothing to say to anyone - never.

I avoided my own friends and acquaintances, yet the loneliness of my existence was insupportable.

In spite of language, in spite of intelligence and intuition and sympathy, one can never really communicate anything to anybody. The essential substance of every thought and feeling remains incommunicable, locked up in the impenetrable strong-room of the individual soul and body. Our life is a sentence of perpetual solitary confinement.

Abba Arsenius for God’s sake conversed with no one,

I can’t say anything. There are no words.

Isolation is the worst possible counselor.

In no one did I find who I should be like. And I stayed like that: like no one.

and I only am escaped alone to tell thee.