Quotes
Quotes about Nothing
I have said nothing because there is nothing I can say that would describe how I feel as perfectly as you deserve it.
There is nothing enduring in life for a women except what she builds in a man's heart.
There's nothing like a Catholic wedding to make you wish life had a fast forward button.
Nothing is poorer than a truth expressed as it was thought. Committed to writing in such cases, it is not even a bad photograph. Truth wants to be startled abruptly, at one stroke, from her self-immersion, whether by uproar, music or cries for help.
There is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes.
One does not kill oneself for love of a woman, but because loveâany loveâreveals us in our nakedness, our misery, our vulnerability, our nothingness.
I started out with nothing. I still have most of it.
Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get, it's what you are expected to giveâwhich is everything.
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. {2} If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. {3} If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. {4} Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. {5} It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. {6} Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. {7} It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. {8} Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. {9} For we know in part and we prophesy in part, {10} but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. {11} When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. {12} Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. {13} And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
We have to look at our own inertia, insecurities, self-hate, fear that, in truth, we have nothing valuable to say. When your writing blooms out of the back of this garbage compost, it is very stable. You are not running from anything. You can have a sense of artistic security. If you are not afraid of the voices inside you, you will not fear the critics outside you.
Don't belive what others tell you. You belive in what you belive; there is nothing better.
Nothing is too high for the daring of mortals: we would storm heaven itself in our folly. [Lat., Nil mortalibus arduum est: Coelum ipsum petimus stultitia.]
Ambition is an idol, on whose wings great minds are carried only to extreme; to be sublimely great or to be nothing.
A degenerate nobleman, or one that is proud of his birth, is like a turnip. There is nothing good of him but that which is underground.
Faith, I know nothing about it; I am my own ancestor. [Fr., An, ma foi, je n'en sais rien; moi je suis mon ancetre.]
Anger is the most impotent of passions. It effects nothing it goes about, and hurts the one who is possessed by it more than the one against whom it is directed.
Such is the state of life, that none are happy but by the anticipation of change: the change itself is nothing; when we have made it, the next wish is to change again.
There is nothing harder than the softness of indifference.
And said to myself, as I lit my cigar, "Supposing a man had the wealth of the Czar Of the Russias to boot, for the rest of his days, On the whole do you think he would have much to spare If he married a woman with nothing to wear?"
Dresses for breakfasts, and dinners, and balls. Dresses to sit in, and stand in, and walk in; Dresses to dance in, and flirt in, and talk in, Dresses in which to do nothing at all; Dresses for Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall; All of them different in color and shape. Silk, muslin, and lace, velvet, satin, and crape, Brocade and broadcloth, and other material, Quite as expensive and much more ethereal.
Miss Flora McFlimsey of Madison Square, Has made three separate journeys to Paris, And her father assures me each time she was there That she and her friend Mrs. Harris . . . Spent six consecutive weeks, without shopping In one continuous round of shopping,-- . . . And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day This merchandise went on twelve carts, up Broadway, This same Miss McFlimsey of Madison Square The last time we met was in utter despair Becasue she had nothing whatever to wear.
Dwellers in huts and in marble halls-- From Shepherdess up to Queen-- Cared little for bonnets, and less for shawls, And nothing for crinoline. But now simplicity's not the rage, And it's funny to think how cold The dress they wore in the Golden Age Would seem in the Age of Gold.
There is one advantage to having nothing, it never needs repair.
If there is a single quality that is shared by all great men, it is vanity. But I mean by "vanity" only that they appreciate their own worth. Without this kind of vanity they would not be great. And with vanity alone, of course, a man is nothing.
There is nothing so agonizing to the fine skin of vanity as the application of a rough truth.
