"He's a wallflower." And Bob really nodded his head. And the whole room nodded their head. And I started to feel nervous in the Bob way, but Patrick didn't let me get too nervous. He sat down next to me. "You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand." The Perks Of Being A Wallflower (page 37), by Stephen Chbosky
"Nonloners have a set of rules by which friendship is played. Dry your tears. End your fears. Give you hope. Help you cope. Loners play by a different set of rules. Ours is a smaller set. A simpler set. A purer set. Critics would call it rudimentary, unreasonable, skewd. They do not understand that what we have to give is not always what others have to give. We care. We feel. We think. We do not always miss the absent one. We can not always come when called. Being friends with a loner requires patience and the wisdom that distance does not mean dislike. Troubles always ensue when assumptions clash, when expectations do not match. Nonloners who wish to be our friends - and they do, it happens all the time - arrive assuming that their rule book is the only rule book. We are aware of thier rules, just as immagrants come to recognize words in the languages of their adopted nations, yet speak their own languages at home. We are aware of their needs. Their idea of fun, their entreaties, their sense of time and how much is enough - these are all too familiar. Not sharing them makes us outlaws and, before we know it, we are being called bad friends."
"Even so, I do not seize the phone and call her, or anyone, when I feel miserable. This is one of those acid tests that seperate the true loner from the person who is alone but would much rather not be: even in the gloomiest gloom, it is not my instint to talk it over. Not that I am sufficently brilliant as to console myself every time. It is more of a wallow. But instinct is instinct, and instint will out." Party Of One (page 70), by Anneli Rufus