Quotes About Emptiness

When you lose a spouse, you're a widow or widower; when you lose your parents, you're an orphan. When you lose a child, there's no word in the English language for that position, that place that you're left.

Widow. The word consumes itself.

When you get just a complete sense of blackness or void ahead of you, that somehow the future looks an impossible place to be, and the direction you are going seems to have no purpose, there is this word despair which is a very awful thing to feel.

The world is all a carcass and vanity, The shadow of a shadow, a play And in one word, just nothing.

It's sad to see boxers sometimes when they've come from these massive highs with thousands of people screaming for them. They're the best at what they do - then, that's it: stopped, finished.

Homeland is something one becomes aware of only through its loss.

The Hollywood lifestyle was just overwhelming. A party here, an interview there, magazine and modeling shoots daily, your face everywhere and girls throwing themselves at you. As great as it felt at the time, I still felt something missing, and that I needed to change.

Thou must be emptied of that wherewith thou art full, that thou mayest be filled with that whereof thou art empty.

A part of my depression lies, I think, in my unanswered question: Where is home? I feel a sense, always, of trying to find my way back to a place that doesn't exist.

It did not seem to matter whether I was present or not. After a time I became resentful, feeling that the flowers mocked me, blooming in defiance of my listless misery.

It had struck me that the world was full of holes, holes which you could fall into, never to be seen again. I couldn't understand the difference between disappearance and death. Both seemed the same to me, both left holes. Holes in your heart holes in your life.

If my soul was filled with anything, then it was dust and the ashes of possibilities.

Avui el cel és ja només ofec, buidor, ploguda nit al mar, al camp, dolenta mà. Com que no puc mai més dormir, faig del meu llit por de presó.

I don't know what they are called, the spaces between seconds– but I think of you always in those intervals.

Missing you is worse than Pittsburgh.

The dysphorias - the bitter fruits of the narcissist's impossible demands of himself - are painful. Gradually the narcissist learns to avoid them by eschewing a structured narrative altogether… The narcissist pays a heavy price for accommodating his dysfunctional narratives: emptiness; existential aloneness .. meaninglessness. This fuels his envy and the resulting rage.

I would like to give you more of my heart,but there is nothing more I can give you. I gave you everything and you crushed it into bits.

Her voice is an empty bucket kicked down a stone cellar staircase.

How does she know herself without a mother? How does she know herself without sound? I guess she knows the shape of things that aren't there instead.

I am not happy. I am not unhappy. I am frozen somewhere in the middle that is so much worse. I am nowhere. Nothing is happening and I am getting more and more sad.

My heart is empty. But my brain - my brain is full. It races with thoughts of what could have been.

Nothing is funnier than unhappiness. Oh? Yes, yes, it's the most comical thing in the world. And we laugh, we laugh, with a will, in the beginning. But it's always the same thing. Yes, it's like the funny story we have heard too often, we still find it funny, but we don't laugh any more.

Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.

Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it's awful.