Quotes About Hollow

Then he fell, badly, tumbling over rocks into a small hollow, bruising himself and knocking out all his wind. The fog had billowed over him, marching past, urgent in its hurry to engulf things, as he lay stunned and breathless in the bottom of his small declivity. Then he began to hear the rocks murmur all around him, and he'd crawled, then run, as fast as he could, screaming. Fell again, got up and went on running.

Everybody says / time heals everything. / But what of the wretched hollow? / The endless in between?

Finally, Dr. Sean C. Solomon of MIT reported (in Astronautics, February 1962) that "The Lunar Orbiter experiments vastly improved our knowledge of the moon's gravitational field indicating the frightening possibility that the moon might be hollow." Frightening? What, indeed, is the significance of that word? The significance was mentioned by no less a figure than the late and great astronomer Carl Sagan in his book Intelligent Life in the Universe (1966).

Lifeless with a heartbeat.

Anyone who's ever read the lyrics of an already cherished song has most likely encountered that hollow sensation of something missing, the absence of certain emotional integers. It can be like viewing a loved one's X-rays.

Outside, the moon is a silver sliver. Every night, the shadow eats a slice of it, until it's nothing but this hollow rind. I feel the same way; with each day, I lose a little more of myself.

He's lighter than you'd think, like whatever was inside him was used up long ago. With that reasoning, it's a wonder I don't float off into the sky.

Nothing from nothing leaves nothing.

Her tiny piping voice bounced down to be from a hollow ball in geosynchronous orbit.

He was a planet without an atmosphere.

his subconscious mind knocked loose from its perch and flapping in the hollow corridors of his skull as erratically as a bat

Sound Protestant and Evangelical doctrine is useless — if it is not accompanied by a holy life. It is worse then useless; it does positive harm. It is despised by keen-sighted and shrewd men of the world, as an unreal and hollow thing, and brings religion into contempt.

It was hollow, my triumph, I could feel that, but I held on to it just the same.

Those who are in pain – most of the world's populations at any given moment – do not do a lot of thinking, speaking, or writing about suffering. All their energy goes into surviving. That is why a lot of what is said and written about suffering seems hollow to those actually in pain.

True poetry is composed of metaphors and symbols which are born in the heart, rise like clouds, and assume a celestial form; verses formed otherwise are not poetry, but only artificial words, each of which contradicts the feelings inside. The utterances and words that have not been formed in a person's soul as the voice of conscience are all hollow, no matter how embellished they are or how dazzling they seem to be.

Notice, there was a man who was once real and alive and in love. But after a series of blows, his humanity was reduced to efficiency. He became a sort of machine—a hollow man. At first he did not even notice, for his condition made him an excellent woodman, as any person can become productive like a machine when he forgoes his heart.

You smile, but you're not really happy. You ask, but you don't want to know. You talk, but aren't saying anything. You laugh, but you don't find it funny. You cry, but it doesn't even help. You wake up, but you're not really alive. You sleep, but you aren't resting. You are alive, but you're not really living.

My heart may be beating but it doesn't mean I feel alive.

My body felt hollow in its relief, as if a storm had gone through.

He tries to picture how it will end, with an empty baseball field, a dark factory, and then over a brook in a dirt road, he doesn't know. He pictures a huge vacant field of cinders and his heart goes hollow.

Without trust, words become the hollow sound of a wooden gong. With trust, words become life itself.

The thing stank of unnamed yearnings, unfulfilled wishes, and a hunger so deep it make her feel hollow inside.

Fame doesn't fulfill you. It warms you a bit, but that warmth is temporary.

There is a zone, a hollow, where what is not inessential, not impossible, assembles; there is no positive vision that would definitively give me the essentiality of the essence.