Quotes About Emptiness

My only relief is to sleep. When I'm sleeping, I'm not sad, I'm not angry, I'm not lonely, I'm nothing.

The point is that all of life is "pointless"—vanity or emptiness—unless something else is involved that transcends the pointlessness.

It took a month after the breakup for her to realize that she was refusing to go anywhere that didn't have cell service on the off chance he'd call, and after that revelation she [Jeannine Dziri] found herself wondering if you were wrong to believe that you went on as yourself even after the loss of that person who had so decisively shaped you.

The darkness and myself. Everything else was gone. And the little that was left of me was going, faster and faster.

He picked her up and tossed her on the bed. They had a hell of a time. But afterward, after she had gone back to her own room, depression came to him and what had seemed like such a hell of a time became distasteful, even a little disgusting. It was the depression of surfeit, the tail of selfindulgence's kit. You flew high, wide, and handsome, imposing on the breeze that might have wafted you along indefinitely; and then it was gone, and down, down, down you went.

Each day death corrodes what we call living, and life ceaselessly swallows our desire for the void.

So now I was wine-less and new-book-less, which for me is a grievous state of affairs.

You cannot measure the loss of a human life. It's all the things a person was, all their dreams, all the people who loved them, all they hoped to be and could give back to the world.

I stood where they'd left me. I watched them get smaller and smaller as they went down the hallway, leaving me there without a word, not even looking back. Only I was getting smaller and smaller, being swallowed up in the suffocating emptiness of the silent house; so that by the time they came back again, I would have disappeared.

She felt free now. Free and empty. No need to talk to anyone, or be polite, or bother about anything.

Your bed was empty today When I looked for you Why?

Funny how an absence can feel like a presence, like that space practically glows with her outline and make me notice how she's not here.

So I've held on to Catholicism or Zen, as practices, as fantasy futures, as possible identities. But when I actually dare to lower myself down into this emptiness—no, that sounds entirely too dualistic and willful and "courageous"—but when this seeing suddenly happens and thought relaxes, Zen drops completely away, and something much deeper is contacted, some entirely other way of being.

My arms are empty without you! My heart cries out, lonely in the darkness, but you are not here. No tears shall bring you back into my arms again. My mothers love was not strong enough to keep you, but it is strong enough to follow and find you, though all the mists of Eternity should try to come between!

I wonder if sometimes you can miss something so much it breaks you, and still be happy you left.

This is no place for anyone with a heart.

In the English language there are orphans and widows, but there is no word for the parents who loses a child.

If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?

If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?

Rejoice in what you have. Power, wealth, fame, they are ghosts! They are like the breeze, impossible to hold. There is no grand destination. Every path ends at the Last Door. Revel in the sparks one person strikes from another." She huddled into her cloak of rags. "They are the only light in the darkness of time.

Even when the divorce papers had come in the mail, even when he'd finally signed them, he'd still felt married, still felt as if he had to be faithful to those vows even though they were empty and meaningless now. Perhaps that was just because he was afraid of moving past those vows, afraid of starting over. So now he looked straight into the eyes of that fear. The fear of being hurt again. The fear of not being worthy of a woman's love. The fear of failure.

all that was missing...was everything else? Ann Hood, the Knitting Circle

All that was missing... was everything else.

I don't know what to do with the space. Rain used to fill it. How do you fill empty space?