Quotes About Emptiness

But two years into our parties, I surveyed the scene from the corner and wondered, 'Why are we having these parties?' What were we making, coming together like that? We were trying to prove that we had everything because we had parties, but I began to feel like we had nothing but parties. If anyone from the future could look back on what we were building, I was sure they would say, 'That could only have been built by slaves

I felt nothing all the time, and it had started to feel normal. It should have scared me, but it didn't.

In the hours without sleep, each moment is so full and so vacant that it suggests itself as a rival of Time.

Certainly, there are huge, multiplatinum bands whose singers command their audience's attention. Sadly, much of the time they have little to say.

Profits on the exchange are the treasures of goblins. At one time they may be carbuncle stones, then coals, then diamonds, then flint stones, then morning dew, then tears.

Only when your hearts are empty of the things of the mind, is there love. Then you will know what it is to love without separation, without distance, without time, without fear.

Eventlessness has no posts to drape duration on. From nothing to nothing is no time at all.

The loss of my parents was definitely the hardest thing I've had to endure. I just felt really dead inside for a long time.

Eventlessness has no post to drape duration on.

Today is just another day of trying to get by without you.

As time passed away, life moved on, As life moved away I moved on, As I moved away, tenses changed My present became past, Future stood at large. And my present became big empty void.

There's not much that I can find in places where there is nothing to find. However, to avoid facing God I find myself spending a lot of time in those very places.

The emptiness, the way his heels rang on the asphalt, was satisfying, emphasised his aloneness. A man alone, alone late at night with no one to say he should be home in bed.

There are people who have too much space between their ears, and given the time, do nothing but free fall forever inside their head. It's a spooky thing to be left alone inside an angry inner-verse.

We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together...

A lot of what making art is, is just being open, and empty. And putting yourself in the right place for things to, literally, come together.

Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.

But she felt an unexpected stab of loneliness. Teddy was not there. If she were to reach out to where he had always lain beside her, he would not be there. He would never be there again. Not ever or ever or ever.

If living were the right word. It had been a suspended life. She had worn black for Teddy inside and out. And somehow it had become a comfortable way of life. While part of her yearned for gaiety and a renewal of life, the other part clung to its cocoon. It was safer to remain inside it. It was less likely that she would have to experience again the pain of losing someone around whom her life had come to revolve.

You offer emptiness and heartache and an endless search for pleasure with which to fill the emptiness.

She spread her hands over her face, but wearily this time. There were no tears left.

She could never make him happy. She had nothing of her real self to offer him.

She raised her eyes to his. To the golden boy who had lit her world for a couple of months one springtime long ago—so little happiness to occupy the space of twenty-eight years.

She had lost all that was most precious in her life.