we met one strange summerin a regular tangle of sticky websyou had the air of angels sweet but I--drowned with the damned spiritsin lava oceans fearing your--foreign static frequency and grey-green eyes(I swear they are even if you--think otherwise): stormscalm ones, calmer than my--raging coals, empty and deadyou speak of souls like you believealways an optimist in pessimisticskin of ivory and titanium mesh...
There is an evil creeping insideThe darkness has a firm hold on meThere is a desire burning withinAmbition seeks to replace the air I breatheThere is a voice, relentless voice in my headMy peace has abandoned meThere is nothing but lonelinessA hollow place I can't traceA void filled with nothing but space A sorrow with which no one can relateI'm just an innocent girl longing for tranquillityBut I'm fading awayFear has taken over me
Maybe I should stop while I'm aheadNay, I swim with sea-demons no sweet summer tuned radioover my sunless desertscapehow does it burn without the sun?
Don't pursue something with a vengeful heart, or it will destroy you. Hate wraps a cold hand around your heart and hollows you out. - Justus
I feign fullness, but in reality I am achingly empty. And it is because I too often sit at the table of the world instead of the feet of God.
Courage is God's way of testing the virtues you profess to have and your level of commitment to everything you think you are.
Perhaps someday, when you are a father, Prince, you will understand how empty is your heart if your child is a hollow toy that you can move where you will him to be
He knows what he'll find if he digs deeper. there's no rush to unpack my insides. he understands there is nothing special about emptiness, nothing interesting about depression.
The center of my sins stuck behind a blocked door, circled by hollow deeds spread on my lifetime’s floor
He knew too well the sting of loneliness and how over time it stole you away, piece by piece, until a mere shell remained.
The magic fades too fastthe scent of summer never lasts the nights turn hollow and vast but nothing remains...nothing lasts.
I left the library. Crossing the street, I was hit head-on by a brutal loneliness. I felt dark and hollow. Abandoned, unnoticed, forgotten, I stood on the sidewalk, a nothing, a gatherer of dust. People hurried past me. and everyone who walked by was happier than I. I felt the old envy. I would have given anything to be one of them.
How was I able to live alone before, my little everything? Without you I lack self-confidence, passion for work, and enjoyment of life--in short, without you, my life is no life.[Written to his wife, Mileva]
The West's post-Holocaust pledge that genocide would never again be tolerated proved to be hollow, and for all the fine sentiments inspired by the memory of Auschwitz, the problem remains that denouncing evil is a far cry from doing good.
Do you know why people like violence? It is because it feels good. Humans find violence deeply satisfying. But remove the satisfaction, and the act becomes hollow.
He gasped in despair while he wrote to her knowing everything is going to end.He: Why did you ruin my image in front of your mother and family though I wasn't the bad guy?She replied Coldly: I acted childish and took revenge, I wanted to end this relation.He kept asking all that she accused him of.She kept admitting false allegations, something kept breaking inside him.Silence kept creeping into him, sorrow enveloped his soul and tears fell of his eyes for he knew all had ended.
It’s for the best. But no matter how many times I repeat it, the strange, hollow feeling in my stomach doesn’t go away. And ridiculous as it is, I can’t shake the persistent, needling feeling that I’ve forgotten something, or missed something, or lost something forever.
When you raise the most valid of points, you will be grazed by the most hollow of souls, and the most vacant of personages.
If you go to thinking take your heart with you. If you go to love, take your head with you. Love is empty without thinking, thinking hollow without love
It is deep January. The sky is hard.The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.It is in this solitude, a syllable,Out of these gawky flitterings,Intones its single emptiness,The savagest hollow of winter-sound.
I looked up at the ivory towers above us all. Nowhere else equals the feral design of this city. Tall skyscrapers that act as gorges hollowing out between flat cement dancing into narrow alleyways like bottomless pits. Building walls rusted the color of blood. Sometimes when you look down the horizon from afar the city looks wider than it is, like a thin field of magical lights gleaming with the hopes of children and idealists; a light on at midnight in one of the penthouses or the changing hues of the Empire State Building. Most of the time though, the city is covered with a layer of honking cars and greed, sirens and the war cry of solicitors, all full of brambles and impenetrable conscience; garbage, steaming manholes, and heat waves twirling smog and pollution through your lungs like mirages as you walk breathlessly through a boiling desert.