Void.

“As for shame, that's my strength; I would even say it's my mother; I am born of her, I'm ashamed of her, I want her, I'm afraid of her; I could also say that she is my beloved; the way she is, the way I am with her, I can even say that we are as inseparable as the pupil from the eye and as the lovely Isolde from Tristan. She is my opening to the outside, she is my light and my death-bearer; I go through her to get to myself. I owe her even the discovery of my anatomy, an illumination in several chapters, and at the same time my discovery of social laws, of the Mosaic tables and of my sense of ownership. Shame upon shame, they put me together thus.”
― Hélène Cixous, Inside

“It’s actually sort of soothing to think of how massive the universe is, and how I could be snuffed out at any minute. I guess I like tricking my brain into disarming things.”
― Emily R. Austin, Interesting Facts about Space

“When I think of my mother’s violent temper, outbursts of affection, and reproachful attitude, I try not to see them as facets of her personality but to relate them to her own story and social background. This way of writing, which seems to bring me closer to the truth, relieves me of the dark, heavy burden of personal remembrance by establishing a more objective approach. And yet something deep down inside refuses to yield and wants me to remember my mother purely in emotional terms—affection or tears—without searching for an explanation.”
― Annie Ernaux, A Woman's Story

“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.”
― Oscar Wilde, De Profundis