Quotes About Emptiness

Living in her University town felt like stayng on at a party that everyone else had left.

Last night they had said and done all those things, and now they were like strangers in a bus queue. The mistake she had made was to fall asleep and break the spell.

She was always going to be the smartest, kindest, funniest, loyalest person we would ever meet, and the fact of her not being here well it just isn't right

In eight years not a day has gone by when she hasn't thought of him. She misses him and she wants him back. I want my best friend back, she thinks, because without him nothing is good and nothing is right.

No reason, Em,' said Dex. 'I just really, really want to tip you' and Emma felt another small portion of her soul fall away.

Leeds United had won but I didn't care. I had lost.

You must be emptied of that with which you are full, so you may be filled with that whereof you are empty. Augustine

As with the wei-wu-wei, "in changing it is at rest" (Heraclitus, frag. 84a). In place of the apparently solid I that does them, there would be an empty and immutably serene quality to them. The experience would be not of a succession of events (winter does not turn into spring) but just-this-one-effortless-thing (tathat?) and then another just-this-one-thing.

When meditating one dwells in the empty, silent no-thing-ness from which mental phenomena arise; when thoughts and images appear one lets them go.

Soon there'll be nothing left of me Nothing left to release

I would miss having Nic in my life. I would miss his funny phone messages and his humor, the stories, our talks, our walks, watching movies with him, dinners together, and the transcendent feeling between us that is love. I would miss all of it. I miss it now. And here it sinks in: I don't have it now. I have not had it whenever Nic has been on drugs. Nic is absent, only his shell remains. I have been afraid - terrified - to lose Nic, but I have lost him.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then have I reason to be fond of grief.

What's the definition of pathetic: overhearing the conversation of two plastic beauties (absolutely consumed with their image) and encountering the vacuum that exists between the ears of these people.

When Hercule Poirot died on that late November afternoon in 2012, a part of me died with him.

you have nothing

Sometimes I come to hate people because they can't see where I am. I've gone empty, completely empty and all they see is the visual form: my arms and legs, my face, my height and posture, the sounds that come from my throat. But I'm fucking empty. The person I was just one year ago no longer exists, drifts spinning slowly into the ether somewhere way back there.

I'm looking for a path out of the emptiness but all I see is the great wide earth in various formations.

Sometimes I come to hate people because they can't see where I am. I've gone empty, completely empty and all they see is the visual form; my arms and legs, my face, my height and posture, the sounds that come from my throat.

That's the truth of it; pile together everything we know and care about in the universe and it will still be nothing more than a tiny speck in the middle of a vast black ocean of Who Gives A Fuck.

I wanted to curl up into a fetal position and start sucking my thumb, let my tears and dripping saliva pool under me. Sorry. I tried living, tried being sentient. Can't do it. Can't live in the same universe with that.

She didnt know that i was dead inside, that i had ruled out the chance of joy ever again. For that night and every night to follow. I had fully settled into my unhappiness and wore it comfortably

I was so blue that I felt I'd turned black inside.

it ate away at me when i was already full of holes

The yawn of the void. A siren call for the unimaginative