Quotes About Emptiness

I felt so alone on that train... a weird, unnatural kind of alone that bore into me. It was feeling just beyond fear and somewhere to the left of sadness.

It was feeling just beyond fear and somewhere to the left of sadness. Tired, but not the kind of tired that sleep fixes. It was dark and gloomy, and yet, it didn't seem that things would get any better if the lights were turned up.

Left unattended, even for a few days, houses take on a strange feel. The cold accumulates in the corners. The dark settles down and pools on the furniture. Quiet leaks everywhere. The air sours.

No. Forget it. You're only fooling yourself." "About what?" "About anything being worth a damn. It's dust, lady, all of it, dust and blood.

The human shapes moving past him in the streets of the city were physical objects without any meaning.

No, Jim,' she said quietly, 'I guess I've never felt anything at all.

It lay broken in half, and he looked into its trunk as into the mouth of a black tunnel. The trunk was only an empty shell; its heart had rotted away long ago; there was nothing inside—just a thin gray dust that was being dispersed by the whim of the faintest wind. The living power had gone, and the shape it left had not been able to stand without it.

They would return to unwanted jobs, unloved families, unchosen friends, to drawing rooms, evening clothes, cocktail glasses and movies, to unadmitted pain, murdered hope, desire left unreached, left hanging silently over a path on which no step was taken, to days of effort not to think, not to say, to forget and give in and give up.

Her work was all she had or wanted. But there were times, like tonight, when she felt that sudden, peculiar emptiness, which was not emptiness, but silence, not despair, but immobility, as if nothing within her were destroyed, but everything stood still.

we do not care. We care for nothing on earth. We are tired.

One night, lightning struck the oak tree. Eddie saw it the next morning. It lay broken in half, and he looked into its trunk as into the mouth of a black tunnel. The trunk was only an empty shell; its heart had rotted away long ago; there was nothing inside—just a thin gray dust that was being dispersed by the whim of the faintest wind. The living power had gone, and the shape it left had not been able to stand without it. Years

He was seeing the full extent of her failure—in the immensity of his own indifference. The droning stream of her insults was like the sound of a distant riveting machine, a long, impotent pressure that reached nothing within him.

if you write a line of only zeroes, is still nothing

If you write a whole line of zeros,it's still nothing, (Kira Alexandrovna)

This is Tehran for me: its absences were more real than its presences.

But she wasn't prepared for the loneliness. It was constant, like a shortness of breath

Nobody ever tells you the truth about loss. You don't only lose someone you love, you lose a part of yourself as well. Your heart. Your humanity.

But if she was being honest—and it was well past time for that—she had to acknowledge that the empty places in her life were of her own making.

I lost a child, she said, meeting Lusa's eyes directly. I thought I wouldn't live through it. But you do. You learn to love the place somebody leaves behind for you.

She is inhumanly alone. And then, all at once, she isn't.

A blank space on a form, the missing page, a void, a hole in your knowledge of someone--it's still some real thing . It exists. You don't get to fill it in with whatever you want.

Our house is like an empty cigarette packet, lying around reminding you what's not in it.

This household is like a pocketful of coins that jingled together for a time, but now have been slapped on a counter to pay a price. The pocket empties out, the coins venture back into the infinite circulation of currency, separate, invisible, and untraceable.

I felt emptied-out and singing with echoes, unrecognizable to myself: that particular feeling like your own house on the day you move out.