Quotes About Emptiness

Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing

We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

I can connect Nothing with nothing

I that was near your heart was removed therefrom

Here is no water but only rock Rock and no water and the sandy road

I can show you fear in a handful of dust

I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Oed' und leer das Meer.

Oed' und leer das Meer.

Old men ought to be explorers Here and there does not matter We must be still and still moving Into another intensity For a further union, a deeper communion Through the dark cold and the empty desolation, The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters Of the petrel and the porpoise.

This is the dead land This is cactus land Here the stone images Are raised

You cannot face it steadily, but this thing is sure, That time is no healer: the patient is no longer here.

That sudden comprehension of the death of hope

Of all the songs we Zida'ya sing, she (Aditu) murmured, the closest to our hearts are those which tell of things lost. Perhaps that is because none of us can show something's value until it is gone, said Josua.

I can't believe there's a prison anywhere out here,' Blaine said, turning the engine off. 'It's the middle of nowhere.

Fine art won't fill me up, y'know.

Then he was gone, and all the colors and the light of the day crumbled and went out.

I do not think I was afraid. There must be substance to breed fear, and I was hollow.

I do not sing songs. I sing dreams, and they are nothing. And since you'll have me sing nothing, I need not sing at all.

Words, words. No more words now. Here is my thirsting hand.

To hatch a crow, a black rainbow Bent in emptiness over emptiness But flying

The song died in his mouth.

Flowerlike, I loved nothing. from Mayday on Holderness

I'm not living with you. We occupy the same cage. (Maggie)