Quotes About Emptiness

The terrace and the whole place, the lawn and the garden beyond it, all I could see of the park, were empty with a great emptiness.

What had the man had, to make him by the loss of it so bleed and yet live? Something—and this reached him with a pang—that he, John Marcher, hadn't; the proof of which was precisely John Marcher's arid end.  No passion had ever touched him, for this was what passion meant; he had survived and maundered and pined, but where had been his deep ravage?... The escape would have been to love her; then, then he would have lived. 

A great many people give me the impression of never having for a moment felt anything.

Oh dear, I'm quite alone, I've nothing on earth to do.

There were immensities between you.

You've not only dried up my tears; you've dried up my soul.

One went through the vain motions, but it was mostly a waste of life.

Julia would have got over the other woman, but she would never get over his becoming a nobody

Words are loneliness.

We are dancing in the hollow of nothingness. We are one flesh, but separated like stars.

New York! The white prisons, the sidewalks swarming with maggots, the breadlines, the opium joints that are built like palaces, the kikes that are there, the lepers, the thugs, and above all, the ennui, the monotony of faces, streets, legs, houses, skyscrapers, meals, posters, jobs, crimes, loves... A whole city erected over a hollow pit of nothingness. Meaningless. Absolute meaningless.

And there is a time, glorious too in its own way, when one scarcely exists, when one is a complete void. I mean, when boredom seems the very stuff of life.

Your nearness is the nearness of planets. I am the void between you. If I withdraw there will be no void for you to swim in.

I am living at the Villa Borghese. There is not a crumb of dirt anywhere, nor a chair misplaced. We are all alone here and we are dead.

I was alive. But I was alive without a memory, without a name; I was cut off from hope as well as from remorse or regret. I had no past and would probably have no future; I was buried alive in a void which was the wound that had been dealt me. I was like the wound itself.

I couldn't allow myself to think about her very long; if I had I would have jumped off the bridge. It's strange. I had become so reconciled to this life without her, and yet if I thought about her only for a minute it was enough to pierce the bone and marrow of my contentment and shove me hack again into the agonizing gutter of my wretched past.

Maybe I only thought I was in love. Maybe I was simply hungry, lonely, a clay pigeon any one could put away with a toy pistol.

The universe has dwindled; it is only a block long and there are no stars, no trees, no rivers. The people who live there are dead; they make chairs which other people sit on in their dreams. In the middle of the street is a wheel and in the hub of the wheel a gallows is fixed. People already dead are trying frantically to mount the gallows, bu the wheel is turning too fast

I am so thoroughly healthy and empty. No dreams, no desires. I am like the luscious deceptive fruit which hangs on the Californian trees. One more ray of sun and I will be rotten

Visata susitrauk?, liko tik miesto kvartalo dydžio, joje neb?ra žvaigždži?, neb?ra medži?, neb?ra upi?. Žmon?s, kurie ?ia gyvena, yra mir?. Jie dirba k?des, ant kuri? kiti žmon?s s?di sapnuose.

Os veo sentados ahí juntos, y sé que os separa un abismo. Vuestra cercanía es la de los planetas. Yo soy el vacío entre vosotros. Si me retiro, no tendréis vacío en que flotar.

He's like a hero come back from the war, a poor maimed bastard living out the reality of his dreams. Wherever he sits himself the chair collapses; whatever door he enters the room is empty: whatever he puts in his mouth leaves a bad taste. Everything is just the same as it was before; the elements are unchanged, the dream is no different than the reality. Only, between the time he went to sleep and the time he woke up, his body was stolen.

When I realize that she is gone, perhaps gone forever, a great void opens up and I feel that I am falling, falling, falling into deep, black space. And this is worse than tears, deeper than regret or pain or sorrow; it is the abyss into which Satan was plunged. There is no climbing back, no ray of light, no sound of human voice or human touch of hand.

La gente cree que el vacío es la nada, pero no lo es. El vacío es una plenitud discordante, un mundo atestado de fantasmas en que el alma se hace un reconocimiento.