Quotes About Emptiness

Emptiness can feel like a dark night of the soul, as described by Saint John of the Cross,18 because it is disorienting for the egoic self, which strives hard to keep us identified with our roles, emotions, and thoughts. But once we understand the nature of emptiness, we may fall in love with it, and then become it.

The glass is cut, the bottle run dry. Our love runs cold in the caverns of the night.

Es preferible sentirse decepcionado que seguir esperando el vacío.

Meaninglessness is of great value. When you finally get that who you actually are is empty and meaningless, it doesn't matter to you whether you are a jerk or not. There is where your power lives.

I've already said an addict is a person with holes. These holes are either congenital, shot out, or carved and eaten away at until what remains is this thing, the hole. The hole can never be filled. The thing most likely to fill the hole is love, but love is fleeting, unreliable, conditional. Drugs are unconditional.

FJ's eyes slithered toward Myron. Myron kept up the eye contact, but there was still nothing there, like looking into the windows of an abandoned building.

First there was light, and then there was no-light. First there was heat, and then there was no-heat. And - First there was love, and then there was no-love. But in its place did not come the absence of love, the emptiness that the going of light and heat had left. Another moved in to take its place. In its place came hate.

I see no human beings. My phone never rings. I'm so very old and so very lonely. I hear from no one.

Nothing is more deadly than a deserted, waiting street.

With him, life was routine; without him, life was unbearable. I stayed miserable for two days.

Sometimes I feel so- I don't know - lonely. The kind of helpless feeling when everything you're used to has been ripped away. Like there's no more gravity, and I'm left to drift in outer space with no idea where I'm going' Like a little lost Sputnik?' I guess so.

I said nothing for a time, just ran my fingertips along the edge of the human-shaped emptiness that had been left inside me.

Not that we were incompatible: we just had nothing to talk about.

For a long time, she held a special place in my heart. I kept this special place just for her, like a Reserved sign on a quiet corner table in a restaurant. Despite the fact that I was sure I'd never see her again.

Something inside me had dropped away, and nothing came in to fill the cavern.

I am nothing. I'm like someone who's been thrown into the ocean at night, floating all alone. I reach out, but no one is there. I call out, but no one answers. I have no connection to anything.

Loneliness becomes an acid that eats away at you.

Beyond the edge of the world there's a space where emptiness and substance neatly overlap, where past and future form a continuous, endless loop. And, hovering about, there are signs no one has ever read, chords no one has ever heard.

We knew exactly what we wanted in each other. And even so, it ended. One day it stopped, as if the film simply slipped off the reel.

Somewhere in his body--perhaps in the marrow of his bones--he would continue to feel her absence.

As if to build a fence around the fatal emptiness inside her, she had to create a sunny person that she became. But if you peeled away the ornamental egos that she had built, there was only an abbys of nothingness and the intense thirst that came with it. Though she tried to forget it, the nothingness would visit her periodically - on a lonely rainy afternoon, or at dawn when she woke up from a nightmare. What she needed at such times was to be held by someone, anyone.

I've built a wall around me, never letting anybody inside and trying not to venture outside myself

Distance might not solve anything, no matter how far you run.

Everyone just keeps on disappearing. Some things vanish, like they were cut away. Others fade slowly into the mist. And all that remains is a desert.