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“How many more times do we have to come to terms with death before we find safety?" he asked. He waited a few minutes, but the three of us didn't say anything. He continued: "Every time people come at us with the intention of killing us, I close my eyes and wait for death. Even though I am still alive, I feel like each time I accept death, part of me dies. Very soon I will completely die and all that will be left is my empty body walking with you. It will be quieter than I am.”

PeopleFeelsStillsBodyEyeDiesThreeLeftWaitingTermAcceptingAliveMinutesWalkingEmptySafetyIntentionKillingMore TimeSay Anything
Book:A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier
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“Nostalgia is a necessary thing, I believe, and a way for all of us to find peace in that which we have accomplished, or even failed to accomplish. At the same time, if nostalgia precipitates actions to return to that fabled, rosy-painted time, particularly in one who believes his life to be a failure, then it is an empty thing, doomed to produce nothing but frustration and an even greater sense of failure.”

IfsWayBelieveActionI BelievePeaceGreaterProduceReturnEmptyAccomplishNostalgiaAccomplishedFrustrationDoomedFinding PeaceRosyNecessary Things
Book:Streams of Silver: The Legend of Drizzt
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“I have outlasted all desire, My dreams and I have grown apart; My grief alone is left entire, The gleamings of an empty heart. The storms of ruthless dispensation Have struck my flowery garland numb, I live in lonely desolation And wonder when my end will come. Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted By tardy winter's whistling chill, A single leaf which has outlasted Its season will be trembling still.”

HeartStillsEndsDreamDesireLeftGriefWonderTreeLonelyEmptySeasonsWinterStormNakedLeafsLimbsChillRuthlessNumbTremblingDesolationGarlandsWhistlingEmpty HeartTree Limbs
Author:Alexander Pushkin
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“I was lingering out on the pavement. There was a missing person inside of myself and I needed to find him . . . I felt done for, an empty burned-out wreck . . . Wherever I am, I'm a '60s troubadour, a folk-rock relic, a wordsmith from bygone days, a fictitious head of state from a place nobody knows.”

KnowsPersonsStatesDoneFeltRocksMissingNeededEmptyFolksBurnedWrecksNobody KnowsPavementRelicsLingeringHead Of StateBurned OutTroubadoursMissing A PersonBygone Days
Book:Chronicles: Volume One
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“Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish - a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow - to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested... Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.”

WayMindHeartRealHateFallFoundFunHeavenImaginationSleepStreetsWindProductsDrinkPureLateEmptyFalling In LoveBlowHaving FunLazyGood TimesHuntersArrestedWay To LiveWhiskyGonzoDementedHillbillySleep LateEmpty StreetsDriving FastLet The Good Times Roll
Author:Hunter S. Thompson
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“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.”

KnowsFirstsStillsPastSongFriendshipFreedomSweetLetting GoBirdEmptyMeant To BeRejoiceCagesFeathersDepartureCagedLetting You GoWhere You LiveJust Let GoNot Letting GoBird Song
Author:Stephen King
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“That country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain.”

PeopleThinkingYearsCountryNightSoundWalksSunQuietLateRainRiversEmptyPassingPassingsHillsAutumnTwilightClosetsCoalMidnightFogMistNoonDuskCellarsAtticsPantry
Book:THE OCTOBER COUNTRY
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“Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping... waiting... and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir... open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us... guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love... the clarity of hatred... the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead.”

IfsKnowsLifeKindSometimesMomentsWould BeJoyLyingDesireChoicesPassionSpeakPeaceWaitingHurtSleepRoomsGriefSourceBearsEmptyHatredPassionateGuidesClarityEcstasyFinestIt HurtsHollowHowlUnwantedPassionate LifeLive With PassionGreat PassionLove PassionSlayerLove And PassionPassion For LifeBuffy The Vampire SlayerDankPassion For What You DoEmpty RoomsPassion And DesireInspirational PassionFinest Moments
Author:Joss Whedon
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“My daughter is seven, and some of the other second-grade parents complain that their children don't read for pleasure. When I visit their homes, the children's rooms are crammed with expensive books, but the parent's rooms are empty. Those children do not see their parents reading, as I did every day of my childhood. By contrast, when I walk into an apartment with books on the shelves, books on the bedside tables, books on the floor, and books on the toilet tank, then I know what I would see if I opened the door that says 'PRIVATE--GROWNUPS KEEP OUT': a child sprawled on the bed, reading.”

IfsKnowsChildrenBookHomeReadingParentWalksPleasureRoomsDoorsChildhoodBedDaughterEmptyTablesSevenComplainingExpensiveGradesMy DaughterContrastApartmentShelvesToiletsTanksGrownups
Author:Anne Fadiman
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“Faris turned on him. "Why choose to wear black today, of all days? I know why I'm in black. Why are you? Mourning? He looked startled. "One does not wear mourning for a servant." You still don't understand, do you? He was not my servant." He regarded her anger, aghast. "What then? What else could he be? Her empty hands shook as she held them out to him. Her voice shook as she replied, "Glove to my hand." Slowly she closed her fists. "Everything.”

KnowsDoeStillsHandsTodayBlackVoiceEmptyServantMourningFistsGlovesEmpty HandsAghast
Author:Caroline Stevermer
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“I've lived to bury my desires and see my dreams corrode with rust now all that's left are fruitless fires that burn my empty heart to dust. Struck by the clouds of cruel fate My crown of Summer bloom is sere Alone and sad, I watch and wait And wonder if the end is near. As conquered by the last cold air When Winter whistles in the wind Alone upon a branch that's bare A trembling leaf is left behind.”

IfsHeartEndsDreamLastsDesireLeftWaitingBehindsWonderWatchesFireFateAirWindColdSummerEmptyWinterCloudsDustBranchesCrownsLeafsLeft BehindTremblingRustEmpty HeartCold AirEnd Is NearCruel Fate
Author:Alexander Pushkin
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“Our conversations are never easy, but as I-we-get older, we are finding that our conversations must bespoken. A need burns inside us to share with others what we are feeling Beyond a certain age, sincerity ceases to feel pornographic. It is as though the coolness that marked out youth is itself a type of retrovirus that can only leave you feeling empty. Full of holes.”

NeedsFeelsFeelingsAgeCertainEasyShareYouthTypeConversationFindingsEmptyCeaseHolesSincerityCoolnessFeeling Empty
Author:Douglas Coupland
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“I believe in those whom I love and trust. All else is foolishness. This god is as empty as his church. His followers choose to attribute all of their good fortune to him, but when he ignores their pleas or leaves them to suffer, they say only that he ignores their pleas or leaves them to suffer, they say only that he is beyond their understanding and abandon themselves to his will. What kind of god is that?”

BelieveKindSufferingI BelieveUnderstandingChurchEmptyFortuneI Believe InAbandonFollowersAttributesFoolishnessGood FortuneLove And Trust
Author:John Connolly
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“Wimsey stooped for an empty sardine-tin which lay, horribly battered, at his feet, and slung it idly into the quag. It struck the surface with a noice like a wet kiss, and vanished instantly. With that instinct which prompts one, when depressed, to wallow in every circumstance of gloom, Peter leaned sadly against the hurdles and abandoned himself to a variety of shallow considerations upon (1) The vanity of human wishes; (2) Mutability; (3) First love; (4) The decay of idealism; (5) The aftermath of the Great war; (6) Birth-control; and (7) The fallacy of free-will.”

FirstsHumansWarWishFeetBirthCircumstancesKissingEmptyLaysInstinctSurfaceVarietyVanityConsiderationFree WillAbandonedPeterWetDecayFirst LoveIdealismShallowGloomFallacyBirth ControlGreat WarPromptsAftermathTinHurdleBatteredMutabilitySardines
Author:Dorothy L. Sayers
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“We'd just shared the last beer and slung the empty can out the window at a stop sign and were just waiting back to get the feel of the day, swimming in that kind of tasty drowsiness that comes over you after a day of going hard at something you enjoy doing -- half sunburned and half drunk and keeping awake only because you wanted to savor the taste as long as you could.”

FeelsKindLongHardWantedLastsWaitingEnjoyHalfTasteWindowEmptyDrunkBeerAwakeOver YouSwimmingTastyGo Hard
Author:Ken Kesey
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“You're beautiful, but you're empty...One couldn't die for you. Of course, an ordinary passerby would think my rose looked just like you. But my rose, all on her own, is more important than all of you together, since she's the one I've watered. Since she's the one I put under glass, since she's the one I sheltered behind the screen. Since she's the one for whom I killed the caterpillars (except the two or three butterflies). Since she's the one I listened to when she complained, or when she boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing at all. Since she's my rose.”

ThinkingSaidTwoImportantSometimesTogetherBeautifulDiesThreeCoursesBehindsLike YouOrdinaryEmptyRoseGlassesScreensButterflyCaterpillarsYou Re BeautifulPasserby
Author:Antoine de Saint-Exupery
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“A Paradox, the doughnut hole. Empty space, once, but now they've learned to market even that. A minus quantity; nothing, rendered edible. I wondered if they might be used-metaphorically, of course-to demonstrate the existence of God. Does naming a sphere of nothingness transmute it into being?”

IfsDoeMightUsedCoursesSpaceExistenceFoodEmptyHolesParadoxSpheresQuantityNothingnessEmpty SpaceMinusExistence Of GodDoughnut
Book:The Blind Assassin: A Novel
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“It was as if the empty nights were made for thinking of him. And sometimes I found myself so vividly aware of him it was as if he had only just left the room and the ring of his voice were still there. And somehow, there was a disturbing comfort in that, and, despite myself, I’d envision his face.”

IfsThinkingMadeStillsSometimesFacesNightFoundLeftVoiceRoomsComfortEmptyRingsDespiteDisturbingThinking Of Him
Book:Interview with the Vampire
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“I suffered no pain, my hunger had taken the edge off; instead I felt pleasantly empty, untouched by everything around me and happy to be unseen by all. I put my legs up on the bench and leaned back, the best way to feel the true well-being of seclusion. There wasn't a cloud in my mind, nor did I feel any discomfort, and I hadn't a single unfulfilled desire or craving as far as my thought could reach. I lay with open eyes in a state of utter absence from myself and felt deliciously out of it.”

WayFeelsMindWellsStatesEyePainDesireFeltTakenEmptyLaysHungerCloudsEdgesLegsAbsenceBest WayWell BeingUnseenMy ThoughtsCravingDiscomfortBenchesNo PainSeclusionOpen EyesUnfulfilled Desires
Book:Hunger
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“I will be thin and pure like a glass cup. Empty. Pure as light. Music. I move my hands over my body - my shoulders, my collarbone, my rib cage, my hip bones like part of an animal skull, my small thighs. In the mirror my face is pale and my eyes look bruised. My hair is pale and thin and the light comes through. I could be a lot younger than seventeen. I could be a child still, untouched.”

LooksChildrenStillsBodyHandsLightEyeFacesMovingAnimalHairPureEmptyMirrorsGlassesBonesShouldersCupsHipsPaleCagesSkullsThighsSeventeenRibsBruisedRib Cage
Book:The Hanged Man
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“Because I want every breath you take to be empty unless you're close enough to smell me. Every word you speak to be unimportant unless it's to me. Every sound you hear empty unless it's my voice. I want you to remember that whatever pleasure you have from now on, you'll have it from me. ~Rurik Wilder~”

WantEnoughRememberSpeakSoundVoicePleasureEmptyBreathsSmellI Want YouUnimportantWords You Speak
Book:Touch of Darkness: Darkness Chosen
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“No, life cannot be understood flat on a page. It has to be lived; a person has to get out of his head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath... We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?" -Donald Miller,Through Painted Deserts”

PersonsStoriesWould BeFallCrimeElementsPagesUnderstoodRiversEmptyBreathsFalling In LoveSettingSettingsDesertBridgesFlatsResolutionVentureSonnetClimax
Book:Through Painted Deserts: Light, God, and Beauty on the Open Road
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“I took her into bed with me and propped myself up with pillows against the headboard to let her nurse. As she nursed and the milk came, she began a little low contented sort of singing. I would feel milk and love flowing from me to her as once it had flowed to me. It emptied me. As the baby fed, I seemed slowly to grow empty of myself, as if in the presence of that long flow of love even grief could not stand.”

IfsFeelsLittlesLongGrowsGriefBabyBedSingingLowsFlowEmptyAnd LoveFedsMilkNursePillow
Book:Hannah Coulter: A Novel
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