void

Incontinent the void. The zenith. Evening again. When not night it will be evening. Death again of deathless day. On one hand embers. On the other ashes. Day without end won and lost. Unseen.

What does the anticipation feel like? The sensation of staring into the void, the awareness of an end__ impending arrival? Burning and being extinguished simultaneously?

Love is as simple as the absence of self given to another. God, when invited, fills the void of any unrequited love; hence loving is how one is drawn closer to God no matter its most horrific repercussions.

By convention sweet and by convention bitter, by convention hot, by convention cold, by convention color; but in reality atoms and void.

The situation on Earth today is too dire for us to act from habit__o reenact again and again the same kinds of solutions that brought us to our present extremity. Where does the wisdom to act in entirely new ways come from? It comes from nowhere, from the void; it comes from inaction. When we see it, we realize it was right in front of us all along. It is never far away; yet at the same time it is in a different universe__ different Story of the World.

For if you do not wish to be __ust a number_ then do not measure yourself accordingly. Bank statements and scales are instruments employed by society that confine you to a limited summation of yourself _ born is the human void.

We are trying to find something to feel the void. It is only God who can fill the void.

Fantasy imposes order on the universe. Or, at least, it superimposes order on the universe. And it is a human order. Reality tells us that we exist for a brief, beleaguered span in a cold infinity; fantasy tells us that the figures in the foreground are important. Fantasy peoples the alien Outside, and it doesn__ matter a whole lot if it peoples it with good guys or bad guys. Putting __y-Brasil_ on the map is a step in the right direction, but if you can__ manage that, then __ere Be Dragons is better than nothing. Better than the void.

The void inside me starts to fill, but my heart has holes, and whatever it holds will run out, leaving me empty once again.

That sassy low classy, but dress real cheap-fly-n-fancy, with a chip on her shoulder -- she's just a bitterly wounded dove, wanting to be sieged by love.

It hurts, doesn't it? Giving someone everything you can think of. The wings to fly and roots to stay and yet watch them choose none of those, leaving you hanging in the middle of void and nothingness.

A void in my chest was beginning to fill with anger. Quiet, defeated anger that guaranteed me the right to my hurt, that believed no one could possibly understand that hurt.

You__e throwing stonesacross my waterbut my inner sea stay calm,whatever happens.The peaceful sound of the moving watermakes everything fade . . .and if waves will growit will be just to wash everything away.A clean surface will rise, sand returns white.My heart is see-throughwith brand new intentions.I'm floating with no reason, and I'm so fucking good baby.And he softly whispered: Too many tides will destroy your beautybut it's not your fault, it's the moon to blame.

Worry notif you are in darknessand the void sucks you in further.This is not the place we go to die.It__ where we are bornand our stories begin.

Art is the only answer to chaos and the void.

She was asked to pour out everything she had, but all she had was an empty soul.

We always become weaker when our soul gets into a stronger desire to own another. Like the way, our knees gets weaker when we see into their eyes. And the way, our hearts and minds defy every law of gravity and make us feel light and float into the infinity. The way, our soul bonds to theirs and becomes stronger. The way, their touch feels like thousands of stars bombarding together ripping us out of our senses and reality. Filling every void inside us, and how everything seems so right. Like a dream, that we never want to end. Like a dream, where we want to be lost forever and never want to find our way back home.

The voids in her soul turned every touch of someone else into the reminiscent of his love inside her.