Quotes About Hollow

The magic of purpose and of love in its purest form. Not televison love, with its glare and hollow and sequined glint; not sex and allure, all high shoes and high drama, everything both too small and in too much excess, but just love. Love like rain, like the smell of a tangerine, like a surprise found in your pocket.

My mind, as is so often the case these days, was totally blank.

Thunder blossoms gorgeously above our heads, Great, hollow, bell-like flowers, Rumbling in the wind, Stretching clappers to strike our ears. Full-lipped flowers Bitten by the sun Bleeding rain Dripping rain like golden honey— And the sweet earth flying from the thunder.

The depth of her feeling surprises her, because how can she have any leftover grief available for other people, for Paola's murdered nephew? But there it is—an anguish that makes her feel hollow in the bones, despair for a beautiful boy Lydia never met.

catching his breath. He felt as if his spine had suddenly become hollow and someone had filled it with particles of ice.

second voice spoke, young and uncertain. "This is Ilan. Can you hear me?" Their voices had the hollow, faraway quality that came with being on speaker. "I

Can you talk?" "Absolutely. What did you find out?" "I'm going to put you on speaker. Terry's here." The sound qual ity went from crisp to hollow when she put him on speaker. "Hey

The Michel program walked around, a hollow persona, empty inside, only some tiny homunculus of the cerebellum left to teleoperate the thing.

Religion becomes a hollow shell of its former self when ritual remains and thoughtful reflection disappears.

Since dark antiquity the words have been spoken by women of every caste to sailors in every port; words of docile acceptance of the horizon's authority, of reckless homage to that mysterious azure boundary; words never failing to bestow on even the haughtiest woman the sadness, the hollow hopes, and the freedom of the whore: 'You'll be leaving in the morning, won't you?...

What an incredible metaphor for what fear does to us—it devours our hearts. Hollows us out. Leaves us empty.

Twas grief enough to think mankind All hollow, servile, insincere; But worse to trust to my own mind And find the same corruption there

I looked at my stepmother, and she stared back at me, and our eyes were like mirrors set opposite each other, making a corridor of reflections, infinitely hollow.

But even though there were plenty of teeth in the grin, there was no heart.

The Final Poem A forge burns in my heart. I am redder than dawn, Deeper than seaweed, More distant than gulls, More hollow than wells. But I only give birth To seeds and to shells. My tongue becomes tangled in words: I no longer speak white, Nor utter black, Nor whisper gray of a wind-worn cliff, Barely do I glimpse a swallow, A shadow's brief glimmer, Or guess at an iris. Where are the words, The undying fire, The final poem? The source of life?

Trump's presidency will fail. Just don't ask me how and when. It will collapse because at its center is a hollow man, lacking ballast, whose chaos cannot be contained.

The Roundhouse was a complete shell. It was absolutely empty, lying derelict for years.

Blank eyes. Empty eyes. A doll's eyes. Eyes more dead than death.

A fool puts her hand into a hollow tree without finding out what's inside first.

MRS. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow

Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies' eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place;

Chaplain Hardy handed him the silver pail and asperger, a wand with a hollow ball at the end.

I'm constantly around people that talk a lot but say nothing. A sad case.

How sad it must be for you to be nothing more than a hollow statue, to have your tomb preserved and your story forgotten.