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“I am not a finished poem, and I am not the song you’ve turned me into. I am a detached human being, making my way in a world that is constantly trying to push me aside, and you who send me letters and emails and beautiful gifts wouldn’t even recognise me if you saw me walking down the street where I live tomorrow
for I am not a poem.
I am tired and worn out and the eyes you would see would not be painted or inspired
but empty and weary
from drinking too much
at all times
and I am not the life of your party who sings and has glorious words to speak
for I don’t speak much
at all
and my voice is raspy and unsteady from unhealthy living and not much sleep and I only use it when I sing and I always sing too much
or not at all
and never when people are around because they expect poems and symphonies and I am not
a poem
but an elegy
at my best
but unedited and uncut and not a lot of people want to work with me because there’s only so much you can do with an audio take, with the plug-ins and EQs and I was born distorted, disordered, and I’m pretty fine with that,
but others are not.”
― Charlotte Eriksson, Another Vagabond Lost To Love: Berlin Stories on Leaving & Arriving

“But I felt that it was my heart which was broken. Something had broken in me to make me so cold and so perfectly still and far away.”
― James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room

“It's amusing to me that we refer to people who live in their heads as detached, disturbed, or mad, when reality for anyone is actually a matter of the individual's state of mind. The mad truth—all people live in their heads. Whatever you think life is, it is.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Smile Anyway: Quotes, Verse, and Grumblings for Every Day of the Year

“He looked around. The room, a few suitcases, some belongings, a handful of well-read booksâ€� a man needed few things to live. And it was good not to get used to many things when life was unsettled. Again and again one had to abandon them or they were taken away. One should be ready to leave every day. That was the reason he had lived aloneâ€� when one was on the move one should not have anything that could bind one. Nothing that could stir the heart. The adventureâ€� but nothing more.”
― Erich Maria Remarque, Arch of Triumph: A Novel of a Man Without a Country

“I feel something change in me... I feel a flat calm, a detachment, the way I get when something is too much and yet l must function and in fact function at the highest level. I know what I'm in for, only a fool wouldn't know that...”
― Patricia Cornwell, Red Mist

“The human brain has a safety switch that gets engaged by traumatic exposure and experiences. It’s similar to being in shock but we remain there until it’s long over. We detach. We create degrees of separation between ourselves and what we feel, think, perceive, and ultimately, this impacts not only our worldview but also our perception of self.
Clinically, this is called “Dissociation.”
― Jim LaPierre

“. . . what matters in combat is adaptability, boldness and maintaining A cool exterior, whilst penetrating your enemy's soul with An icy cold stare
- Diary of A Combat Fiend”
― Soke Behzad Ahmadi & Denise Itchikawa, Dirty Fighting : Lethal Okinawan Karate

“External relationships seem to have been emptied by a massive withdrawal of the real libidinal self. Effective mental activity has disappeared into a hidden inner world; the patient's conscious ego is emptied of vital feeling and action, and seems to have become unreal. You may catch glimpses of intense activity going on in the inner world through dreams and fantasies, but the patient's conscious ego merely reports these as if it were a neutral observer not personally involved in the inner drama of which it is a detached spectator. The attitude to the outer world is the same: non-involvement and observation at a distance without any feeling, like that of a press reporter describing a social gathering of which he is not a part, in which he has no personal interest, and by which he is bored. Such activity as is carried on may appear to be mechanical. When a schizoid state supervenes, the conscious ego appears to be in a state of suspended animation in between two worlds, internal and external, and having no real relationships with either of them. It has decreed an emotional and impulsive standstill, on the basis of keeping out of effective range and being unmoved.”
― Harry Guntrip, Schizoid Phenomena, Object Relations and the Self

“IF YOU ABOLISH THE DRAFT," said Owen Meany, "MOST AMERICANS WILL SIMPLY STOP CARING WHAT WE'RE DOING IN OTHER PARTS OF THE WORLD”
― John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany

“In the course of therapy, we often witness clientsâ€� capacities to report abuse stories with intellectualized, detached demeanors. And they are quick to add disclaimers that minimize their experiences such as “It wasn’t so bad,â€� “I probably deserved it anyway,â€� “I know my parents did the best they could,â€� “It didn’t have any negative effect on me,â€� or “That was a long time ago, and it can’t be relevant to my life now.â€� Many clients expend tremendous amounts of energy disavowing traumatic or abusive histories, believing that revisiting old feelings and thoughts will keep them stuck or are irrelevant to who they are today.”
― Lisa Ferentz, Treating Self-Destructive Behaviors in Trauma Survivors: A Clinician's Guide

“Once a person has become detached from his possessions, his customary duties, his moments of solitude, where is he? What is he?”
― Patricia Highsmith, Nothing That Meets the Eye: The Uncollected Stories of Patricia Highsmith

“What you want is the whole of me—isn't it, isn't it?—and the whole of me isn't there for anybody. In that full sense you want me I don't exist.”
― Elizabeth Bowen, The Death of the Heart

“I breathe deeply and say over to myself: - 'You are at home. You are at home.' But a sense of strangeness will not leave me, I cannot feel at home amongst these things . . . I am not myself there. There is a distance, a veil between us.”
― Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front

“You grieve at first. And then slowly, with the yawning of the years, the disappeared gets scraped from your memory, the way your flesh can be peeled from your limbs. It's very harsh and extremely painful. But it gets done, square inch-by-square inch. Until, the skin that is your memory gets completely scarred and numbed. You live. The disappeared is detached from the dermis of remembering. And that is what is known as moving on.”
― Psyche Roxas-Mendoza The Unlamented

“As long as one can think as an outsider, an observer apart from the conflict, there is hope for a resolving thought.”
― R. N. Prasher

“Scientific advancement carries risk,â€� Kohler argued. “It always has. Space programs, genetic research, medicine—they all make mistakes. Science needs to survive its own blunders, at any cost. For everyone’s sake.â€�
Vittoria was amazed at Kohler’s ability to weigh moral issues with scientific detachment. His intellect seemed to be the product of an icy divorce from his inner spirit. “You think CERN is so critical to the earth’s future that we should be immune from moral responsibility?”
― Dan Brown, Angels & Demons

“Much, much later. when I am back home and being treated for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). I will be enabled to see what was going on in my mind immediately after 11 August.

I am still capable of operating mechanically as a soldier in these following days. But operating mechanically as a soldier is now all I am capable of.

Martin says he is worried about me. He says I have the thousand-yard stare'.

Of course, I cannot see this stare. But by now we both have more than an idea what it means.

So, among all the soldiers here, this is nothing to be ashamed of. But as it really does just go with the territory we find ourselves in. it is just as equally not a badge of honour.

Martin is seasoned enough to never even think this. but I know of young men back home, sitting in front of war films and war games, who idolise this condition as some kind of mark of a true warrior. But from where I sit, if indeed I do have this stare, this pathetically naive thinking is a crock of shit. Because only some pathetically naive soul who had never felt this nothingness would say something so fucking dumb.

You are no longer human, with all those depths and highs and nuances of emotion that define you as a person.
There is no feeling any more, because to feel any emotion would also be to beckon the overwhelming blackness from you. My mind has now locked all this down. And without any control of this self-defence mechanism my subconscious has operated. I do not feel any more.

But when I close my eyes. I see the dead Taliban looking into this blackness. And I see the Afghan soldier's face staring into it, singing gently as he slips into another world. And I see Dave Hicks's face. shaking gently as he tries to stay awake in this one.

With this, I lift myself up, sitting foetal and hugging my knees on my sleeping mat.”
― Jake Wood, Among You: The Extraordinary True Story of a Soldier Broken By War

“And thus far it was a life: in the void. Wragby was there, the servants . . . but spectral, not really existing. Connie went for walks in the park, and in the woods that joined the park, and enjoyed the solitude and the mystery, kicked the brown leaves of autumn, and picked the primroses of spring. But it was all a dream; or rather it was the simulacrum of reality. The oak-leaves were to her like oak-leaves seen ruffling in a mirror, she herself was a figure somebody had read about, picking primroses that were only shadows or memories, or words. No substance to her or anything . . . no touch, no contact! Only this life with Clifford, this endless spinning of webs of yarn, of the minutiae of consciousness, these stories Sir Malcolm said there was nothing in, and they wouldn't last. Why should there be anything in them, why should they last? Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. Sufficient unto the moment is the appearance of reality.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley’s Lover

“The rich eat life, the poor eat death; so what is the problem they ask?”
― Anthony Liccione

“We coexisted in a state of mutual detachment.”
― Patrick McGrath, Trauma

“I do not think the long-range bullets I fire provide the mark of a man; I am only dimly aware that they are dehumanising me.
They are my opium tto see me through my time here. But with each hit they give, they only provide a feeling respite from the past I cannot escape from and thre present I have chosen to mire myself in. And, grounded as I am in the reality of this hill, I do not yet fully appreciate how this addiction is infecting my future with malediction.
With this clinical, psychopathically detached behaviour considered as normal, proper and expected on this hall, I cannot yet stop to think - because I cannot allow myself to here - of how hese respites may be blackening my soul in all the time I will have left on my own back Home - should I even live through the remainder of my months here, in some other corner of this Hell of a country.”
― Jake Wood, Among You: The Extraordinary True Story of a Soldier Broken By War

“Some people would regard people who look like they do as ugly if they did not look like them.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“Actually, it’s rather curious. We are face-to-face with one of the most complex theological issues. Does a foot, detached from its body…have an afterlife?”
― Olivier Schrauwen, Portrait of a Drunk

“No less than myself, though in a different way, he was entirely removed from the activities of the human beings of the world. We were of one species if only in that we were both disoriented.”
― Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

“Will you tell me how you came to be living...' He stops, as if trying to find the words. 'As you were.'

I remember the care I'd given that he not know. How could I explain the way time seemed to slip from my fingers, the way I became incrementally more detached, more unable to reach out a hand to take something I wanted? I will not allow him to pity me any more than he does.

'You could have come to see me,' he says. 'If you need something.'

I laugh at that. 'You?'

He frowns down at me with his amber eyes. 'Why not?'

The enormity of the reasons catches in my mouth. He's a prince of Elfhame, and I am the disgraced child of traitors. He befriends everyone, from the troll guard at the entrance to all those Tiernan mentioned back in the High Court, while I have spent years alone in the woods. But most of all, because he could have asked his sister to allow me to stay on the Shifting Isles and didn't.

'Perhaps I wanted to save that favour you still owe me,' I say.

He laughs at that. Oak liking me is as silly as the sun liking a storm, but that doesn't stop my desire for it.

Me, with my sharp teeth and chilly skin. It's absurd. It's grotesque.

And yet, the way he looks at me, it almost seems possible.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“Ted kisses Rachel with tongue and squeezes her ass. In doing so, he discovers that it is possible to enjoy something and yet not care about it in the slightest. He finds this sensation—feeling pleasure, and simultaneously feeling detached from the pleasure—to be, itself, quite pleasurable. He wonders if he has miraculously become a Buddhist, or suffered a psychotic break.”
― Kristen Roupenian, You Know You Want This: Cat Person and Other Stories

“How can one discover what he feels?"

"I thought he might perhaps behave � quite differently with you?"

"No, no. We seem to know each other well but I think that's just because I parade my feelings. He's affectionate, detached, passive, absolutely passive."

"He's never told you about that place?"

"He's never talked about himself at all.”
― Iris Murdoch, The Nice and the Good

“Mark Sharpe: You don't even get it! Those bodies in the crowd, THEY ARE THE MARKETING PLAN!”
― B.A. Bellec, LF: A Pulse Prequel Short Story

“Blood and sweat still coated me. I tried to remember the usual fit of my soul in my body, the priority of things, my way of looking at the world. What to do with my limbs in the stillness. How did I usually position my hands without a blade between them? How did I stop moving?”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“It may be easy to feel detached from happenings not close to us. We are comparatively objective about events and incidents that do not concern or affect us. Distance brings that perspective, but it is not easy to have the same objectivity about events which happen to us or have an immediate impact on our lives. Becoming a witness who observes without comment or mental intrusion can produce a wiser view of events and occurrences.”
― KRISHNA MURTHY ANNIGERI VASUDEVA RAO, FLOWERS OF STARDUST