Quotes About Emptiness

It's always hard to lose somebody. It leaves a hole in you heart that never grows back.

his eyes took in the barren slopes and the scattered boulders and the lonley gray road windingits way into the fading hills,and i could feel him thinking to himself this is no place to die

I wanted to hate someone, but I didn't know who. I was no where and everywhere. I was lost.

I wanted to turn everything off, too. Just press a button — click — and shut myself down. Turn off my heart, turn off my mind, turn off my body — just lie there, senseless, like a dormant tree in winter, waiting for the spring to return.

I wanted it to stop. I wanted everything to stop: the noise, the fear, the stink, the pain, the sickening ache in my belly. I didn't want to feel anything anymore. I didn't want to do anything. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to be scared. I didn't want to be brave. I didn't want to be strong or weak or smart or stupid or precious or careless or dead... I didn't want to be anything.

The spiritual experience isn't one of filling ourselves up— with either religious or intellectual beliefs—but of emptying ourselves so that we can experience what is, directly, unfiltered.

The spiritual experience isn't one of filling ourselves up— with either religious or intellectual beliefs—but of emptying ourselves so that we can experience what is, directly, unfiltered. This

the way he'd slowly starved his relationship of oxygen.

Religion fared badly in so much of the history he wrote about, and yet he was constantly surprised by how much solace he gained from places of worship. It wasn't redemptive, nothing to do with conscience—more the strange sense of meaningful emptiness he found in these places, a quality that allowed him to disappear effortlessly.

It is strangely wonderful to feel the lack of something instead of believing that it was never there in the first place.

it always hurts more to have and lose than to not have in the first place.

Life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit.

How downhearted was Meer at night! Whatever came to his lips became a cry for help. When he started on the path of love, he was like fire; Now it's ended he is a heap of ashes on a pyre.

The sentence, "She was hollow, as though something had chewed a hole in her body and the hole had grown infected," unless it's been used before by someone else in a story she cannot recall.

We lose June. We lose July. In August we look in mirrors and want to die.

Away from the bright motion of the party, she carried her sadness like a dark stone clenched in her palm.

Maybe it's not what we have that makes us who we are, it's what we're missing. A chromosome, a kidney, a sister, a feather, a bay.

There was at time in my life where all I wanted was a relationship, and I thought that was the most important thing.

I had so much. I felt so sad.

Pneumonia. I'd heard that word before. Over two years ago, when I'd first come to Susan's house, when I'd learned about Becky, her best friend. "What killed her?" I'd asked, and Susan had said, "Pneumonia. That's a sickness in the lungs." I was falling, falling. I had no one to catch me. Susan was dying. I had no safe place to be.

Jake was close to tears. In that moment he saw the world in its true light, as a place where nothing had ever been any good and nothing of significance done: no art worth a second look, no philosophy of the slightest appositeness, no law but served the state, no history that gave an inkling of how it had been and what had happened. And no love, only egotism, infatuation and lust.

Jemu watched his father disappear. He didn't throw the coconut and he didn't cry. Never again would he know love for a human being that wasn't adulterated by another, contradictory emotion.

When he died, I went about like a ragged crow telling strangers, "My father died, my father died." My indiscretion embarrassed me, but I could not help it. Without my father on his Delhi rooftop, why was I here? Without him there, why should I go back? Without that ache between us, what was I made of?

Jemu watched his father disappear. He didn't throw the coconut and he didn't cry. Never again would he know love for another human being that wasn't adulterated by another, contradictory emotion.