Quotes About Emptiness

Then the pain of loss leaped out on me, like a knife in the night when one has been on one's guard all day.

She thought: This is how all life should be accepted, in desireless wonder, reaching out for nothing and thrusting nothing away, rejoicing in the different essence of each moment as it blazes into the present from the folded future. But she was under no illusions; for a life of such moments one needed a heart without roots, a spirit free in the wind, and empty hands. Once she had had them. She would never know them again. She had committed too much to earth.

I was perpetually grief-stricken when I finished a book, and would slide down from my sitting position on the bed, put my cheek on the pillow and sigh for a long time. It seemed there would never be another book. It was all over, the book was dead. It lay in its bent cover by my hand. What was the use? Why bother dragging the weight of my small body down to dinner? Why move? Why breathe? The book had left me, and there was no reason to go on.

I have not lost my fascination with death. I have not become a noticeably less intense person. I have not, nor will I ever, completely lose the longing for that something, that thing that I believe will fill an emptiness inside me. I do believe that the emptiness was made greater by the things that I did to myself.

When I returned, everything was different. Everything was calm, and I felt very clean. Everything was in order. Everything was as it should be. I had a secret. It was a guilty secret, certainly. But it was MY secret. I had something to hold on to. It was company. It kept me calm. It filled me up and emptied me out.

I missed him so much that it felt like a physical pain in the area below my ribs. I opened my mouth to accommodate it. I put my hand to it. A hollow, aching, piercing place.

But at that moment—the moment of realization that life as I'd been living it would have to end—I felt devastation unlike any I'd ever known. The barrenness was indescribable. The emptiness that opened up in me seemed to stretch on forever; I could see no end to it, could find no source of comfort in it, could not imagine any way out.

The physical food transubstantiates in our minds into something more ethereal, of human and emotional nurturance, a sense that our hungers are being sated. Even if you are just stuffing handfuls of fries into your mouth on a binge, you still feel that some emptiness, if briefly, is being filled.

I was gone too long. He let me go. All that remains is this overwhelming, nearly tactile cloud of resentment. Too much was required of him, and he has nothing left.

They are solid, real. I am an object, useful but hollow. The absence of thought fills me up.

I began to measure things in absence instead of presence.

Emptiness is not a mere emptiness, but rather fullness in which the distinctiveness of everything is throughly realized.

To say that Buddhist principles such as dependent origination, emptiness, and suchness are impersonal does not mean that Buddhism is indifferent to human affairs. On the contrary, Buddhism as a religion is essentially concerned with the salvation of humankind.

À vivre trop longtemps avec un bunker à la place du cœur, on s'habitue à la noirceur.

Comment on va faire maintenant qu'il fait tout le temps nuit sur toi? Qu'est-ce que ça veut dire la vie sans toi? Qu'est-ce qui se passe pour toi là? Dur Rien? Du vide? De la nuit, des choses de ciel, du réconfort?

Allez, en avant ! Il faut que tout s'accélère. Ce soir j'en ai plus rien à foutre des rêves et de la réalité. Dormir, manger et toutes ces conneries d'être vivant, je veux plus en entre parler, fermez vos gueules, les morts, je me tire. Venez, les étoiles, je vous prends une par une ! Allez, venez vous enfoncer dans ma bouche, je suis vide, j'ai de la place. Hantez, faîtes comme chez vous ! Brillez !

No me queda sangre, tengo noche en las venas, negra y helada.

Along this road goes no one, this autumn eve.

Sora and I were separated by the distance of a single night, but it was just the same as being separated by a thousand miles.

Show me...Show me what I've forgotten...Show me what was so important...that it tore my heart in two?!

My chest got this weird feeling, like when you stare into the eyes of a little baby and the baby looks back up at you and you can feel how pure and innocent it is, so much that it makes your stomach feel empty - probably 'cause you realize you used to be pure like that, too, and now you're not.

That's the thing with time, isn't it? It's not all the same. Some days - some years - some decades - are empty. There is nothing to them. It's just flat water. And then you come across a year, or even a day, or an afternoon. And it is everything. It is the whole thing.

It made me lonely. And when I say lonely, I mean the kind of loneliness that howls through you like a desert wind. It wasn't just the loss of people I had known but also the loss of myself. The loss of who I had been when I had been with them.

You can have everything and feel nothing.