Quotes About Resignation

Nothing matters to a man who says nothing matters.

It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.

I would certainly end up forever crying the blues into a coffee cup in a park for old men playing chess or silly games of some sort.

This desk of mine is one at which a man may die, but from which he cannot resign.

To live one's love and hatred, to live that which one is means defeat, resignation, and death. The crimes of society, the hell that man has made or man become unconquerable cosmic forces.

What is done let us leave alone.

that you may reap humility from your dryness, instead of the disquietude the devil strives to cause by it. I believe that where true humility exists, although God should never bestow consolations, yet He gives a peace and resignation which make the soul happier than are others with sensible devotion.

Al comienzo de mi vida espiritual, hacia los trece o catorce años, me preguntaba qué más podría adquirir en lo sucesivo, pues creía que me era imposible comprender mejor la perfección. Pronto reconocí que cuanto más se adelanta en este camino, tanto más lejos del término se cree uno, y por eso ahora me resigno a verme siempre imperfecta y en eso encuentro mi alegría.

The paradise offered by the culture industry is the same old drudgery. Both escape and elopement are pre-designed to lead back to the starting point. Pleasure promotes the resignation which it ought to help to forget.

Therefore, whatsoever seemeth to thee desirable, thou must always desire and seek after it with the fear of God and humility of heart, and most of all, must altogether resign thyself, and commit all unto Me and say, 'Lord, thou knowest what is best; let this or that be, according as Thou wilt.

If I know my own heart, I do now feel the necessity of resigning myself into the hands of my God, to mould and guide me at His will; tho I dare not say that I am, at present, willing to do it.

When I was at IMPACT and X Division Champion, my neck wasn't able to handle the workload and after losing the belt to Brian Cage in a match I just realized my neck just can't handle this anymore.

I exited Netflix on wonderful terms, but I don't think I was totally at peace.

I didn't want to leave Newcastle, but that's football.

I have no intention of running for office again.

A pit rises in my stomach, hard and full. My breathing stops for a moment, then starts again, this time shallower. My mouth goes dry, and I feel my heart pounding. It is over, I know, and I am right.

Good," he said, hoping and praying that a bolt of lightning would suddenly shoot from the heavens and kill him on the spot.

Do you need some Tylenol? No, I'm just getting old. Tylenol can't do much to fix that.

And it isn't that I'm so unhappy I don't want to live anymore. That's not what it feels like. It feels more like I'm tired and bored and the party's gone on too long and I want to go home. I feel flat and there doesn't seem to be anything to look forward to, so I'd rather call it a day.

I was still owed an explanation, I thought, but so what? What good was it going to do me? It wouldn't have made me any happier. It was like scratching when you have chicken pox. You think it's going to help, but the itch moves over, and then moves over again. My itch suddenly felt miles away, and I couldn't have reached it with the longest arms in the world. Realizing that made me scared that I was going to be itchy forever, and I didn't want that.

And if I went back to sleep and slept for forty years and woke up without any teeth to the sound of Melody Radio in an old people's home, I wouldn't worry that much, because the worst of life, i.e., the rest of it, would be over. And I wouldn't even have had to kill myself.

Chomsky's description of the neoliberal/corporate hold over our economy, polity, journalism, and culture is so powerful and overwhelming that for some readers it can produce a sense of resignation. In our demoralized political times, a few may go a step further and conclude that we are enmeshed in this regressive system because, alas, humanity is simply incapable of creating a more humane, egalitarian, and democratic social order.

I didn't get fired. You didn't punch your boss and get fired from the Tribune? That's what I heard. I punched what could loosely be called a colleague for cribbing my notes on a story and since the editor–who happened to be the asshole's uncle–took his word over mine, I quit. To write books. Is it fun? I guess it is. I bet you killed the asshole in the first one you wrote. You'd be right. Beat him to death with a shovel. Very satisfying.

I know why you came. Because you couldn't stay away. I understand that. Now you're just going to have to accept what comes with it.