Quotes About Emptiness

Surviving felt like its own punishment. What had I done to deserve this? How could I live if my parents weren't somewhere in this world?

Ante mis ojos, inútilmente abiertos, se extiende la noche profunda, la noche vacía, el negro definitivo donde todo lo que alienta, tarde o temprano, se deshace.

Vuelco libros dentro del hueco y no lo lleno. Vuelco música y la acalla. Vuelco ángeles, caballos, argumentos y el hueco se me sube por los hombros; se adueña de mi nombre; me expulsa, despiadado, de mi cara. Yo, la verdad, no sé qué hacer. Hoy manda el hueco. Hoy no soy nada.

Por eso yo digo aquí tantas palabrotas, porque están devaluadas, porque ya nada vale nada, hay demasiada gente, todo perdió su efecto , la palabra se ha vaciado de sentido y explota como una pompa de jabón

She is dancing. Away. From you now. She was just a wish. She was just. A. Wish. And her memory is all that is left for you now.

La vida para mí se hacía demasiado larga. La literatura, por sí sola, no me distraía.

Nothingness is the stuff of thought. Beings, autonomous voices, memories dredged up, following the lapping of the water. Nothingness is not empty.

Isolated, she managed somehow to feel free—albeit with a freedom that made her want to smash a hole in the very center of the universe.

Ahora eran extraños, no, peor que extraños, porque entre ellos no existía la posibilidad de que llegaran a ser amigos. Se trataba de un alejamiento perpetuo.

I know nothing - nothing in the world - of the hearts of men. I only know that I am alone - horribly alone.

I felt total bad about it, and empty. Granpa said he knew how I felt, for he was feeling the same way. But Granpa said everything you lost which you had loved give you that feeling. He said the only way round it was not to love anything, which was worse because you would feel empty all the time. Granpa

Ne boji se priroda praznine, nego nada.

Comment se faisait-il que je ne l'aie jamais rencontrée? À quoi me servait-il de connaître tant de monde si cette fille n'en faisait pas partie? Il faisait froid sur le parvis

Death was not a person… with a devil one could talk, with the worst of monsters one could reach some sort of understanding, make some kind of bargain… Death was horrible just because it was nothing, because it had no existence, because it smothered all it touched, turned everything to emptiness.

Maria Cross ! Maria ! douleur, douleur de ne l'avoir pas vue — mais surtout quel signe qu'elle n'ait pas même songé à m'avertir ! Il faut que je compte bien peu dans sa vie ; elle renonce à me voir sans même y arrêter sa pensée... Je mets l'infini dans des minutes qui ne sont rien pour elle... »

Ellos no saben lo que es la vejez. Vosotros no podéis imaginar este suplicio: no haber tenido nada de la vida y no esperar nada de la muerte. Que no haya nada al otro lado del mundo, que no exista explicación alguna, que la palabra del enigma no nos sea revelada jamás...

Vivre mais un cadavre entre les mains de ceux qui la haïssent. N'essayer en rien de voir au-delà.

J'ai hurlé dans le noir des parois de mon ventre quand j'ai demandé après toi. L'enfermée le sang la tache.

Ye who have laid your love to rest, And wept above their lifeless clay, Know not the anguish of that breast, Whose lov'd are rudely torn away. Ye may not know how desolate, Are bosoms rudely forced to part, And how a dull and heavy weight, Will press the life-drops from the heart.

Don't trust anybody over a hundred and fifty years old, particularly if they look thirty. Anybody who gets that old in Caverna loses something, and they don't get it back. They can't feel properly any more. They're hollow inside, and all they got left is a hunger – a hunger to feel. They're like . . . great big trap-lanterns, all blind gaping need, and thousands of teeth, with decades to come up with tricks and schemes.

She could recall almost nothing of them. She tried a thousand times, but for the greater part that section of her memory was as smooth and numb as scar tissue. Sometimes, just sometimes, she convinced herself that she could remember stray images or impressions, but she could not describe them properly or make sense of them.

The Devil has no better friend than an empty belly.

She felt like an amputee, reaching out reflexively with an arm she no longer had.

How does it feel," whispered Faith, "to come back to your memories and find yourself missing and a dead person in your place? I would feel as if I were disappearing. I would wonder if my father wanted to remember me at all. Do you ever have nightmares where you wake up and find that there is nothing of you left, just a dead person sitting up and wearing somebody else's face?" She saw Paul flinch. She had touched a nerve, and that knowledge made her fiercely happy.