We lie under the sheetafter making love, speakingof lonelinessrelieved in a bookrelived in a bookso on that pagethe clot and fissureof it appearswords of a manin paina naked wordentering the clota hand graspingthrough bars:deliveranceWhat happens between ushas happened for centurieswe know it from literaturestill it happenssexual jealousyoutflung handbeating beddryness of mouth after pantingthere are books that describe all thisand they are useless

His vision, from the constantly passing bars, has grown so weary that it cannot hold anything else. It seems to him there are a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

Beyond the edge of the world there's a space where emptiness and substance neatly overlap, where past and future form a continuous, endless loop. And, hovering about, there are signs no one has ever read, chords no one has ever heard.

The Perfect Man uses his mind like a mirror - going after nothing, welcoming nothing, responding but not storing.

Too much alleged —fantasy' is just empty sugar, life with the crusts cut off.

In all our searching, the only thing we've found that makes the emptiness bearable is each other.

[in the true mad north] of introspection,where 'falcons of the inner eye'dive and die, glimpsing in their dying fall, all life's memory of existence.

Freedom from likes and dislikes, the sudden sense of identification, the spirit of comedy.

Letting go is actually a healthy foundation upon which we can open up to real love— to giving, receiving, and experiencing it authentically and organically.

I told myself: 'I am surrounded by unknown things.' I imagined man without ears, suspecting the existence of sound as we suspect so many hidden mysteries, man noting acoustic phenomena whose nature and provenance he cannot determine. And I grew afraid of everything around me – afraid of the air, afraid of the night. From the moment we can know almost nothing, and from the moment that everything is limitless, what remains? Does emptiness actually not exist? What does exist in this apparent emptiness?

The artist's job is not to succumb to despair but to find an antidote for the emptiness of existence.

But what we are given is taken as well, so that we know God's glory comes to us from His will alone.

Behind the hieroglyphic streets there would either be a transcendent meaning, or only the earth.

Hope is for people who can't see the Truth.

But no: he was empty, he was confronted by a vast anger, a desperate anger, he saw it and could almost have touched it. But it was inert - if it were to live and find expression and suffer, he must lend it his own body. It was other people's anger. Swine! He clenched his fists, he strode along, but nothing came, the anger remained external to himself.

It was not the feeling of completeness I so needed, but the feeling of not being empty.

But what was there to say?Only that there were tears. Only that Quietness and Emptiness fitted together like stacked spoons. Only that there was a snuffling in the hollows at the base of a lovely throat. Only that a hard honey-colored shoulder had a semicircle of teethmarks on it. Only that they held each other close, long after it was over. Only that what they shared that night was not happiness, but hideous grief.Only that once again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much.

Don't hide your emptiness. Fill it with love and give it away to fill your life with joy.

A busy life is filled with tremendous emptiness.

Emptiness is not a great loss. It creates a great opportunity to fill yourself again and again with great love.