Clifford D. Simak Quotes

O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark, The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant

There is no such thing as an empty space or an empty time. There is always something to see, something to hear. In fact, try as we may to make a silence, we cannot.

Nothing can come of nothing.

The majority of the world is empty space. Empty space, empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people - it's all empty space. That's amazing!

And all was black and still, and black and cold, and black and dead, and black.

I go out there. I'm out there every day. [Pause] There is nothing out there.

Space has no "existence." "To exist" literally means "to stand out." You cannot understand space because it doesn't stand out. Although in itself it has no existence, it enables everything else to exist. Silence has no existence either, nor does the unmanifested.

Black is the Color and none is the number

A vacuum can only exist, I imagine, by the things which enclose it.

One cannot long remain so absorbed in contemplation of emptiness without being increasingly attracted to it. In vain one bestows on it the name of infinity; this does not change its nature. When one feels such pleasure in non-existence, one's inclination can be completely satisfied only by completely ceasing to exist.

The blackness of darkness, forever.

Here, though, there is nothing. Nothing at all. The sky seems empty even when I am looking at the moon and stars.

From him to the stars, in all directions, there was only silence and emptiness.

It's so dreadful to have nothing to love - life is so empty - and there's nothing worse than emptiness.

Strange: how when a light is extinguished, it's immediately as if it has never been. Darkness fills in again, complete.

If hers are the stars in the nighttime sky, mine are the haunted empty spaces in between.

Night, in which everything was lost, went reaching out, beyond stars and sun. Stars and sun, a few bright grains, went spiraling round for terror, and holding each other in embrace, there in a darkness that outpassed them all, and left them tiny and daunted. So much, and himself, infinitesimal, at the core of nothingness, and yet not nothing.

There are moments when it's too quiet. Particularly late at night or early in the mornings. That's when you know there's something lacking in your life. You just know.

I am nothing, and not even that.

Death doesn't exist. It never did, it never will. But we've drawn so many pictures of it, so many years, trying to pin it down, comprehend it, we've got to thinking of it as an entity, strangely alive and greedy. All it is, however, is a stopped watch, a loss, an end, a darkness. Nothing.

Can you say something about nothing?

The mass gross absence of sound in space is more than just silence.

I am here, alone, at the end of the world. I reach out and touch nothing.”.

Every something is an echo of nothing

I'm nothing, I'm not even here