Quotes About Desolation

I walked alone through the twilit street. The wind was whirling, driving, carrying me like a slip of paper. Fragments of cast-iron sky flew and flew-they had another day, two days to hurtle through infinity… The unifs of passersby brushed against me, but I walked alone. I saw it clearly: everyone was saved, but there was no salvation for me. I did not want salvation …"(c)

The moon, our own, earthly moon is bitterly lonely, because it is alone in the sky, always alone, and there is no one to turn to, no one to turn to it. All it can do is ache across the weightless airy ice, across thousands of versts, toward those who are equally lonely on earth, and listen to the endless howling of dogs. ("A Story About The Most Important Thing")

It's a filthy city. Everything here is trash. Eventually someone's gotta burn it.

kUrApIkA iS nOw DrOwNinG iN An InDeScRiBaBlE emPtInEsS...

His friends were probably right when they called it a pitiful little vacant house. He wondered if that had anything to do with the emptiness of his own world.

Ne karanin ne denizin maliydi.Belki de karadan nefret eden birinin karayi hic birakmamasi gerekirdi. Kiyidan kopup yuabancilasma ve uzun sureli seferler,giderek insani karadaki yasami duslemeye zorlar,onu nefret ettigi bir seyi ozlemenin anlamsiz acilarina suruklerdi.

they make a desert and call it peace'.

Inside the woods is an abandoned hotel. Trees grow in the lobby and up through the rooms. Limbs jut out through the windows. It looks like outside inside. I climb the trees through 1000 rooms. I look for you in each of them. You're a long shiny line.

Living is cold and technical without you, a death mask of itself.

We name it and let sorrow's lightning discharge through us. And it's not like we're free even then. We move forward companioned with spirits. This place of desolation is one we will visit often. It is here we learn to be permeable as an estuary, to breathe more deeply. To open our hands.

The utterly empty bottle of his soul.

The trunks of date palms met as though they were corpses mangled by the ants that had penetrated their leaves, while scraps of ripe dates, strewn about beneath them, gave out a fermented smell mixed with that of the date palms and the water-sodden roots.

Sundays are terrible because it is clear that there is no one in charge of the world. And this knowledge leave you drifting around, grappling with unfulfilled expectations and vague yearnings.

In life there are certain sores which, like a kind of canker, slowly erode the soul in solitude.

If you want to destroy something in this life, be it an acne, a blemish or the human soul, all you need to do is to surround it with thick walls. It will dry up inside.

Was our life nothing more than a sequence of anonymous screams in a desert of indifferent stars?

Desolation tries to colonize you.

Neanche la sua bellezza può essere compresa e, quando intravedi la bellezza nella desolazione, qualcosa dentro di te cambia. La desolazione cerca di colonizzarti

Better not to think of people living here, of it being empty Ã¢â'¬Â¦ and yet now you want someone to remember, to understand what was lost, even if it was little enough.

The beauty of it cannot be understood, either, and when you see beauty in desolation it changes something inside you. Desolation tries to colonize you.

The effect of this cannot be understood without being there. The beauty of it cannot be understood, either, and when you see beauty in desolation it changes something inside you. Desolation tries to colonize you.

W]hen you see beauty in desolation it changes something inside you. Desolation tries to colonize you.

I thought of a line from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, "As idle as a painted ship / Upon a painted ocean.

They were open but empty-looking, like the windows of a house no one lived in. At