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From Alex. Pope to H. Cromwell.

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March 18th 1708.

I have nothing to say to you in this letter but I am resolved to write and tell you so.
Why should not I content myself with so many great examples of deep divines, profound casuists, grave philosophers, who have written ― not letters only ― but whole tomes and voluminous treatises about Nothing?
Why should a fellow like me, who all his life does nothing, be ashamed of writing nothing? and that to one who has nothing to do but to read it?
But perhaps you’ll say the whole world has something to do, something to talk of, something to wish for, something to be employed about: ― Now pray, Sir, cast up the amount, put all things together, and what is the sum total but just nothing? ―
I have no more to say, but to desire you to give my service (and that is nothing) to your friends, and to believe I am nothing more than yours
“Ex nihilo nil fit”

(from here, what a site)

Monotony
C.P. Cavafy

The one dull day another
as dull will follow. The same
things will occur and occur yet again,
The very same moments come to us and leave us.

Every month passes and brings another month
Coming events can easily be foretold;
they are the same as yesterday’s dull ones.
And to-morrow will almost seem not to be to-morrow.