Stolen Isolation Quotes

I made a sort of choking noise. As far as I could see, there was nothing. There was only flat, continuous brown land leading out to the horizon. Sand and more sand, with tussocks of small scrubby bushes standing up like surprises and the occasional leafless tree. The land was dead and thirsty. I was in nowhere. (4.14)

"Will you let me go, out back?"

You shook your head. "There's nothing to escape to," you said. "I've told you. It's a wilderness." (7.16-17)

Other times I heard nothing. I strained my ears for the roar of an engine, a car or an airplane howling toward me. I found myself longing for a highway. But there was never anything. It was amazing how quiet it was. I wasn't used to it. I even spent a day or two thinking I had hearing damage. It was as if all the sounds I was used to had disappeared from the world. (12.3)

I shielded my eyes. There was nothing but sand and flatness and horizon. I used the branches to turn myself around, grazing my leg a little on the rock. But there were no buildings on the other side, no towns … not even a road. It looked the same on that side as it had looked near the house. Long, flat emptiness. I wanted to scream, probably the only reason I didn't was because I was worried you would hear me. If I had a gun, I think I would have shot myself. (17.4)

I glanced at the cloudless blue sky. There were no planes up there, no helicopters. No rescue missions. Lying in bed, I'd had the idea of writing "help" in the sand, but I realized then, it was a pretty stupid idea if no one ever flew over anyway. I turned to see the rest of the view: horizon, horizon, Separates, horizon, horizon … nowhere to run. (30.6)

Perhaps there was something more to those two words … some sort of a need to connect, wanting to use my voice rather than risk losing it. Because that's what it felt like, then, when that wind was up and blowing the sand around; it felt like it could blow my voice completely away from me, too. I was disappearing with those grains, scattering with the wind. (30.25)

I tried to ignore what was happening on the dashboard, and kept driving. I looked straight ahead, focusing on those shadows shimmering on the horizon. The land stretched on and on, never ending. No tracks. No telegraph lines. There was nothing to say that humans had ever been there. Only me. (55.4)

I climbed the dune […] There was nothing any different on the other side. There was no mine site, no people. There was only more sand, more rocks, more trees, and again, more shadowy dunes in the distance. As far as I could see I was the only person out there […] If I died right there on that dune, no one would know about it. Not even you. (57.8)

I lowered myself onto the crate outside the door as it all sunk in. I'd always kept a small seed of hope alive, hope that I'd be able to escape. But suddenly I realized something. That view of sand and endlessness … that was it, that was my life. Unless you took me back to a town, that was all I'd ever see. No more parents or friends or school. No more London. Only you. Only the desert. (65.8)

It didn't make me glow, though. I felt more like I was fading away, like the world had forgotten me. As I stared at the glinting sand, I wondered if my disappearance was making the news. Was anyone still interested? I knew papers dropped stories when there wasn't anything new to report. And what could be new about my story, when the only thing that ever changed was the way the wind blew? (67.6)