Empty Vase Quotes

#1. Emilienne wore Maman's wedding dress. Just after the ceremony, Emilienne glanced in the mirror. She saw not her own reflection but a tall empty vase.

Leslye Walton

#2. Empty, empty, empty; silent, silent, silent. The room was a shell, singing of what was before time was; a vase stood in the heart of the house, alabaster, smooth, cold, holding the still, distilled essence of emptiness, silence.

Virginia Woolf

#3. I would take care you speak of her with respect for, of course, I will interpret any disrespect for her as disrespect for me.

Margaret Moore

#4. Only after all the noise has spent itself do we begin to hear in the silence of our heart, the still, small, mighty voice of God.

Aiden Wilson Tozer

#5. That was Pele's strength - holding people off with his arm.

Ron Atkinson

#6. I read to escape to a more interesting world, not to be locked up in a sweltering prison and find myself vicariously standing among people who are tortured beyond the limits of sanity.

Amy Tan

#7. Perfect beauty is so rare, its effect so magical!

Anna Katharine Green

#8. Having begun to feel, people's desire to feel grew. They wanted to feel more, feel deeper, despite how it sometimes hurt. People became addicted to feeling. They struggled to uncover new emotions.

Nicole Krauss

#9. Your life is determined by the sum of the choices that YOU make.

Frank Sonnenberg

#10. I really don't care much about what you do, where you're from, the size of your bank account, or even where you went to school. Show me kindness, respect, act with integrity, and you'll have a fan and a friend for life.

Charles F. Glassman

#11. When life gives you lemons ... they could really be oranges.

Ellen DeGeneres

#12. The one ring road around the airfield is paved, but heavily rutted and potholed. Every few days a street-sweeper makes its way around, polishing the rutted surface with brushes and water.

Glenn Dean

#13. It's not the truth that you know, but the truth that you obey that matters.

Johnny Hunt

#14. I let his rose wither in a vase on my desk, a vase painfully empty of flowers since the long-ago time when, on my birthday, Mario would give me a cattleya, in imitation of Swann. In the evening the flower was already black and bent on its stem. I threw it in the trash.

Elena Ferrante