Quotes About Emptiness

It became clear to me how men die. I saw that it is not so hard. Or easy. It is nothing. One just starts living less and less, being less and less, thinking, feeling and knowing less and less. The rich flow of life dries up, and only a thin thread of uncertain consciousness remains, more and more meager, more and more insignificant. And then nothing happens, there is not anything, there is nothing. And nothing matters—it is all the same.

Ho?u da budem ?ovjek, borite se sa mnom ljudski! Uzalud... Prazan prostor oko mene sve je pustiji, moja smiješna pobuna sve tiša.

Idi od mene, odvratna nemo?i, zavaravaš me lažnim slikama rastere?enja, koje nisu ?ak ni želje.

Vrijeme uporno glo?e ?ovjeku misao, i od nje ostaje kostur, blijeda uspomena bez pravog sadržaja.

Nikog ne poznajem, i nemam nikakvih obaveza osim da ostanem neprimije?en. Osje?am se izdvojen, stran, ništa nije moje, i mogu da budem nadmo?an, i surov. Udaljujem ih od sebe, potirem crte lica, gušim glasove do neprepoznavanja, prekidam svaku ljudsku vezu izme?u sebe i njih, posmatram ih obesmišljene, puštam da žive preda mnom bez moje pomo?i, sami sobom, bez mog razumijevanja i podrške, bez mog opravdanja i kritike, bez moga u?eš?a.

Isklju?io sam se, i bio isklju?en, odvojen od svega oko sebe, i svijet je prili?no avetinjski, živ ali ravnodušan. A i ja sam osamostaljen i neprobojan.

And after a little while of this my brain and my body and every single inch of me that was alive was flooded with the feeling that I was starving, starving, starving for Edmond. And what a coincidence, that was the feeling I loved best in the world.

She knew what it was like to miss someone, for she missed Cory so continually and pressingly that the feeling was like its own shattering bass vibrating through her, and he was only 110 miles away at Princeton, not across the world.

It did not make Helen feel worse, though, as she had thought it might. It occupied her; it gave her a project to work on. She and Ray had shared almost nothing in years. Grief didn't count, because in a way it was nothing; there wasn't anything in it to hold on to, just wide-open empty space.

She wondered if some people got to feel fully full, or whether it was everyone's fate to feel as if the state of being human was one in which the self was like a bag of something wonderful that had already been half-eaten.

I open the journal now and pick up the pen, but I can't bring myself to write a word.

Loveless, we lay together.

Someone has to love me," he said. "As far as I can tell, the job is currently unoccupied.

When you have nothing inside you, you feel everything more, and feel you can control it all.

When your mom is gone, the thing no one ever tells you is that the little compass needle inside keeps spinning around and around, never finingt North.

When you have nothing inside you, you feel everything more, and feel you can control all of it.

There wasn't much to know. Now there's less.

It was all terrifyingly close and painfully hollow, the prison that neither I nor my mother had ever seen in the life she'd chosen for me.

You don't have to be sad to miss someone and wish they were still in your life.

Love, when it goes, can sometimes burn to ash. And sometimes it can leave nothing.

So you reach this moment where finally, finally, it all shifts, you find a way to open up your hands and let go. When what used to matter stops breaking you so fucking hard; when you accept that empty place in your heart will always be there because only one person can fill it, and you get up anyway because goddamn it, one person who does not love you enough should never make you incapable of moving forward.

There had been times when missing him had felt like someone had reached inside her and pulled out the part of her that remembered how to breathe. And times when she'd barely given the memories of him a second's worth of her time.

or furniture I wanted to buy or even people I was attracted to (well, I'm referring to those things a little) but, rather, a sensation I can only describe as the ache of not being there

This is where we die, I thought, stripped of any fleck of the festive. Dying is bureaucratic and fluorescent.