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Empty Quotes

“In the beginning was belief, foolish belief, and faith, empty faith, and illusion, the terrible illusion. ... We believed in God, had faith in man, and lived with the illusion that in each one of us is a sacred spark from the fire of the shekinah, that each one carried in his eyes and in his soul the sign of God. This was the source—if not the cause—of all our misfortune.”

IfsMenSoulEyeBeliefCausesFireSourceTerribleIllusionEmptySacredFoolishHis EyesMisfortunesSparks
Author:Elie Wiesel
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“When a writer looked at an empty computer screen, what did she see? Tristan wondered. A movie screen ready to be lit with faces? A night sky with one small star blinking at the top, a universe ready to be written on? Endless possibilities. Love's endless twists and turns - and all love's impossibilities.”

FacesNightTurnsUniverseStarsWrittenSkyPossibilityReadyComputerEmptyScreensEndlessLitTwistsImpossibilityNight SkyTwists And TurnsComputer ScreenEndless Possibilities
Book:Kissed by an Angel
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“He thought that it was loneliness which he was trying to escape and not himself. But the street ran on: catlike, one place was the same as another to him. But in none of them could he be quiet. But the street ran on in its moods and phases, always empty: he might have seen himself as in numberless avatars, in silence, doomed with motion, driven by the courage of flagged and spurred despair; by the despair of courage whose opportunities had to be flagged and spurred.”

TryingMightOpportunitySilenceStreetsLonelinessQuietDespairEmptyDrivenMoodRanPhasesDoomed
Book:Novels, 1930-1935
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“Let's get one thing clear right now, shall we? There is no Idea Dump, no Story Central, no Island of the Buried Bestsellers; good story ideas seem to come quite literally from nowhere, sailing at you right out of the empty sky: two previously unrelated ideas come together and make something new under the sun. Your job isn't to find these ideas but to recognize them when they show up.”

WritingTwoIdeasStoriesShowsSeemsTogetherJobsSunClearOne ThingSkyRight NowEmptyNo IdeaIslandsSomething NewBuriedSailingGood StoryDump
Book:On writing: a memoir of the craft
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“Eyes Tell Stories But do they know how to craft fiction? Do they know how to spin lies? His eyes swear forever, flatter with vows of only me. But are they empty promises? I stare into his eyes, as into a crystal ball, but I cannot find forever, only movies of yesterday, a sketchbook of today, dreams of a shared tomorrow. His eyes whisper secrets. But are they truths or fairy tales? I wonder if even he knows.”

IfsKnowsStoriesDreamEyeTodayLyingSecretFictionWonderKnow HowForeverTomorrowPromiseEmptyBallsYesterdayTalesCraftsStaringHis EyesFairyFairy TaleSwearCrystalsVowCrystal BallSketchbooksEmpty Promises
Book:Tricks
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“As I became a creature of the empty tunnels, survival became easier and more difficult all at once. I gained in the physical skills and experience necessary to live on. I could defeat almost anything that wandered into my chosen domain. It did not take me long, however, to discover one nemesis that I could neither defeat nor flee. It followed me wherever I went - indeed, the farther I ran, the more it closed in around me. My enemy was solitude, the interminable, incessant silence of hushed corridors.”

LongDifficultSilenceEnemyEasierSolitudeSkillsCreaturesSurvivalEmptyDefeatChosenRanTake MeDomainTunnelsCorridorsIncessantNemesis
Author:R. A. Salvatore
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“It is almost impossible to describe happiness, because at the time it feels entirely natural, as if all the rest of your life has been the aberration; only in retrospect does it swim into focus as the rare and precious thing it is. When it is present, it seems to be eternal, abiding forever, and there is no need to examine it or clutch it. Later, when it has evaporated, you stare in dismay at your empty palm, where only a little of the perfume lingers to prove that once it was there, and now is flown.”

IfsNeedsFeelsLittlesDoeHas BeensSeemsNaturalForeverFocusImpossibleProveEternalEmptyStaringSwimPalmsPerfumeRest Of Your LifeAbidingRetrospectClutchPrecious ThingsAberrationDismay
Book:The Memoirs of Cleopatra
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“What's prayer? It's shooting shafts into the dark. What mark they strike, if any, who's to say? It's reaching for a hand you cannot touch. The silence is so fathomless that prayers like plummets vanish into the sea. You beg. You whimper. You load God down with empty praise. You tell him sins that he already knows full well. You seek to change his changeless will. Yet Godric prays the way he breathes, for else his heart would wither in his breast. Prayer is the wind that fills his sail. Else drift with witless tides. And sometimes, by God's grace, a prayer is heard.”

IfsKnowsWayWellsHeartSometimesHandsDarkPrayerSinSilenceGraceHeardSeaWindPrayingEmptyMarkPraiseBreatheStrikesShootingReachingBreastsTidesLoadSailSilence IsGod's Grace
Author:Frederick Buechner
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“Harshness vanished. A sudden softness has replaced the meadows' wintry grey. Little rivulets of water changed their singing accents. Tendernesses, hesitantly, reach toward the earth from space, and country lanes are showing these unexpected subtle risings that find expression in the empty trees.”

LittlesCountryEarthWaterSpaceTreeChangedExpressionSpringSingingEmptyRisingUnexpectedSubtleTendernessAccentsReplacedGreyLanesMeadowsSoftnessHarshness
Author:Rainer Maria Rilke
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“It's that moon again, slung so fat and low in the tropical night, calling out across a curdled sky and into the quivering ears of that dear old voice in the shadows, the Dark Passenger, nestled snug in the backseat of the Dodge K-car of Dexter's hypothetical soul. That rascal moon, that loudmouthed leering Lucifer, calling down across the empty sky to the dark hearts of the night monsters below, calling them away to their joyful playgrounds.”

HeartSoulNightVoiceDarkSkyCarCallingMoonLowsShadowEmptyEarsDearMonstersFatsJoyfulPassengersPlaygroundsLuciferTropicalDodgeHypotheticalRascalsBackseat
Book:Dearly Devoted Dexter
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“On those occasions when he had killed in the dark, he later needed to see his victims' faces because, in some unlit corner of his heart, he half expected to find his own face looking up at him, ice-white and dead-eyed. "Deep down," the dream-victim had said, "You know that you're already dead yourself, burnt out inside. You realize that you have far more in common with your victims after you've killed them than before.”

KnowsHeartSaidDreamFacesRealizingDarkWhiteCommonHalfNeededEmptyVictimCornersExpectedIceOccasionsDeep DownNumbBurnt Out
Author:Dean Koontz
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“He was weary of himself, of cold ideas and brain dreams. Life a poem? Not when you went about forever poetizing about your own life instead of living it. How innocuous it all was, and empty, empty, empty! This chasing after yourself, craftily observing your own tracks--in a circle, of course. This sham diving into the stream of life while all the time you sat angling after yourself, fishing yourself up in one curious disguise or another! If he could only be overwhelmed by something--life, love, passion--so that he could no longer shape it into poems, but had to let it shape him!”

IfsIdeasDreamPassionCoursesBrainForeverColdShapesEmptyTrackCirclesCuriousSatStreamsFishingLove LifeDisguiseWearyOverwhelmedChasingObservingDivingAnglingLove Passion
Author:Jens Peter Jacobsen
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“Everyone is in such a hurry. People haven’t found meaning in their lives, so they’re running all the time looking for it. They think the next car, the next house, the next job. Then they find those things are empty, too, and they keep running. Once you start running, it’s hard to slow yourself down.”

PeopleThinkingHardRunningJobsNextFoundHouseCarHavensEmptyKeep Running
Book:Tuesdays With Morrie: An old man, a young man, and life's greatest lesson
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“That night, like every other night since I’d met her, I curled Grace into my arms, listening to her parents’ muffled movements in the living room. They were like busy little brainless birds, fluttering in and out of their nest at all hours of the day or night, so involved in the pleasure of nest building that they hadn’t noticed that it had been empty for years.”

YearsLittlesNightParentHoursPleasureRoomsGraceMovementBuildingArmsListeningInvolvedMetsBirdEmptyBusyNestsLiving RoomFlutteringBrainless
Book:Shiver
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“I recall an August afternoon in Chicago in 1973 when I took my daughter, then seven, to see what Georgia O’Keeffe had done with where she had been. One of the vast O’Keeffe ‘Sky Above Clouds’ canvases floated over the back stairs in the Chicago Art Institute that day, dominating what seemed to be several stories of empty light, and my daughter looked at it once, ran to the landing, and kept on looking. "Who drew it," she whispered after a while. I told her. "I need to talk to her," she said finally.”

NeedsArtSaidDoneStoriesLightSkyDaughterEmptySevenCloudsRanMy DaughterChicagoAfternoonRecallsStairsAugustGeorgiaInstituteLandingDominatingAbove The CloudsGeorgia O Keeffe
Book:The White Album
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“Spring TO what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on my neck as I observe The spikes of the crocus. The smell of the earth is good. It is apparent that there is no death. But what does that signify? Not only under ground are the brains of men Eaten by maggots. Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.”

KnowsMenLittlesDoeEnoughEarthPurposeBrainSunFlowerReturnQuietSpringEmptyHotSmellOpeningFlightCupsHillsIdiotNecksAprilStairsBabblingMaggotsCrocusesEmpty Cup
Book:Second April: Easyread Super Large 18pt Edition
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