The word of kings is but an empty shadow.

Places that are empty of you are empty of life.

No man's land. There ain't no asylum here.
King Solomon he never lived 'round here.

When kings the sword of justice first lay down,
They are no kings, though they possess the crown.
Titles are shadows, crowns are empty things,
The good of subjects is the end of kings.

The ugly mansions of the rich who had fled stood empty on the bluff above the sea.

The ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.

The so-called no kings protests have been a complete and utter failure with minuscule attendance.

The sky is absolutely empty. Beautifully pure and empty.

As if the architects and builders would live in all the houses they built! Or could live in them all. It's obvious, it stares you in the fact. There must be a God and he can't know anything about us.

An empty house is like a stray dog or a body from which life has departed.

An empty house feels a certain way. Ripe with absence.

I'm empty, here at the edge of the sky.

Having found nothing worth more than emptiness, he leaves space vacant.

A village which cannot produce its own carrier contains no men.

Gloomy calm of idle vacancy.