Quotes About Emptiness

I feel as dry and empty as an autumn puffball— I feel as though the wind could blow my fur away.

ÖzgürlüÄŸünü yitirdikten sonra, yitirecek baÅŸka neyin kal?yor ki?

His eyes were as blank and bright as doorknobs.

No worries about money, success, fear, joy, pain, sorrow, sex, or love. Absolute zero. No father, mother, girlfriend, lover. The dead are orphans. No company but the silence like a moth's wings. - Garraty's thoughts on death and dying, The Long walk

Garraty watched apathetically and thought, even the horror wears thin. There's a surfeit even of death.

I'm haunted by all the space that I will live without you.

There wasn't a single thing in there that reminded me of my existence.

He used sweet wine in place of life because he didn't have any more life to use.

I hate eating dinner alone. It's like being dead.

And all the time he knew it was his hunger eating him.

Rough work with a soul will always be open to all, including condemnation & reviling, while fine work housing emptiness is closed to all insults & is easily ivied over with paid praises

Possibly this is one more version of disappearing into your life, the way career telephone company bigwigs, overdutiful parents and owners of wholesale lumber companies are said to do and never know it. You simply reach a point at which everything looks the same but nothing matters much. There's no evidence you're dead, but you act that way.

I believe in what you see being most of what there is, as I've taught my students, and that life's passed along to us empty. So, while significance weighs heavy, that's the most it does. Hidden meaning is all but absent.

Life's passed along to us empty. We have to make up the happiness part.

Our lives were passed on to us empty and our task was to make up being happy.

It is a vacant vista, the acme of opulent American dreariness Ann has for some reason married into. I feel like getting up and walking out onto the lawn—waiting for my son in the grass.

A drought is a tearless time of grief.

I did not wonder if what his absence would spare me was the exhaustion of a longing so relentless it had become nearly unconscious, as if I had failed to realize that the water I drank was salty, always salty.

All that spring and summer, there were times when she felt as if she had no joints or muscles, no physical means with which to move about the world.

I don't believe in God, but I miss him.

What is taken away is greater than the sum of what was there. This may not be mathematically possible; but it is emotionally possible.

And everything you do, or might achieve thereafter, is thinner, weaker, matters less. There is no echo coming back; no texture, no resonance, no depth of field.

You see—I hope you never get there yourself—but some of us get to the point in life where we realise that nothing matters. Nothing fucking matters.

At times it feels as if life itself is the greatest loser, the true bereaved party, because it is no longer subjected to that radiant curiosity of hers.