Quotes About Emptiness

If you ever find yourself on a boat in the middle of the ocean, you look around in every direction and don't see anything. That's a terrifying experience.

I used to think it ignoble to try and flee from oneself—like an act of defeat…. But I'm tired now, Cezal, and I see there's no such thing as honor or dereliction. There is only emptiness.

The emptiness of life is, at times, deafening. I think the thought of my existence is a pain because I feel at some times that I do not understand it, and at other times, I don't think there is anything to understand.

That cold, dead look with something behind it like waiting

This derisive aspect of the voice contributes to the empty feeling or the sensation of being let down that many people notice after they achieve an unusual success.

Listening to music, I always have exactly the same feeling: something's missing. Never will I learn the cause of this gentle sadness, never will I wish to investigate it.

world" is totally absent.

If you put these two fundamental Buddhist ideas together—the idea of not-self and the idea of emptiness—you have a radical proposition: neither the world inside you nor the world outside you is anything like it seems.

This is the version of the emptiness doctrine that makes sense to me, and it's the version most widely accepted by Buddhist scholars: not the absence of everything, but the absence of essence. To perceive emptiness is to perceive raw sensory data without doing what we're naturally inclined to do: build a theory about what is at the heart of the data and then encapsulate that theory in a sense of essence.

To perceive emptiness is to perceive raw sensory data without doing what we're naturally inclined to do: build a theory about what is at the heart of the data and then encapsulate that theory in a sense of essence.

Caminaba como antes por las calles, miraba los objetos que se exhiben en las vitrinas, y hasta me detenía sorprendido frente a ciertas ingeniosidades de la industria, mas la verdad es que estaba horriblemente solo.

My gift to you will be an abyss, she said, but it will be so subtle you'll perceive it only after many years have passed and you are far from Mexico and me. You'll find it when you need it most, and that won't be the happy ending, but it will be an instant of emptiness and joy. And maybe then you'll remember me, if only just a little.

The University of Santa Teresa was like a cemetery that suddenly begins to think, in vain. It also was like an empty dance club.

Silence glimmers in the empty hallways, on the radios no one listens to anymore.

Everything's over, I thought. I felt rested, I'm home, I have lots to do. When I sat up in bed, though, all I did was start to cry like a fool, for no apparent reason.

The night was dark as pitch or coal. Stupid expressions, thought Pereda. European nights might be pitch-dark or coal-black, but not American nights, which are dark like a void, where there's nothing to hold on to, no shelter from the elements, just empty, storm-whipped space, above and below.

These days there's no time to be bored, happiness has vanished somewhere in the world, and all that's left is dismay.

Nothing lasts, the purely loving gestures of children tumble into the void.

Above the street, like a hanged man, swings the spot-lit sign of the neighborhood's best restaurant, closed a long time ago.

Una semana sin ver a Maciste se me antojaba una eternidad. Pero cuando intentaba imaginar una vida completa junto a él no veía nada: una imagen en blanco, la pared de un cuarto deshabitado, amnesia, lobotomía, mi cuerpo partido, hecho pedazos.

Ivanov's breath smelled of vodka and sewers, sour and heavy, like something rotting, reminiscent of empty houses near swamps, nightfall at four in the afternoon, vapors rising from the sickly grass and fogging the dark windows. A horror film, thought Ansky. Where everything has come to a halt, and it comes to a halt because it knows it's lost.

Silence hovers in the yards, leaving no pages with writing on them, that thing we'll later call the work.

aunque yo sabía perfectamente que esa disposición era falsa, tan falsa como la mía, una disposición de apariencia alegre que escondía una sensación de vacío, de tristeza y desconsuelo ante nuestra propia reacción frente al vacío.

prefiero el ritual de la nada.