Quotes About Weariness

In my view the time for rousing revolutionary literature has passed, because the revolution has already revolutionised itself to death and has left behind only bitterness and a sort of weariness, listlessness and even nausea.

So many things that might have been," Edgar said. "My life – I'm afraid – will be recorded as a series of things that are, and better things that might have been. My heart is sore, and I have never felt so weary.

Short, dark, and slight, he looks simultaneously middle-aged and prepubescent, a little worse for wear in any case with his black hair matted like a street cat and his eyes crusted over and bleary.

Oh, cold world -- I have grown so weary of you and all your horrible bathrooms.

We'd been fighting and crying, and we were weary in that way that only a couple whose marriage is collapsing can be weary. We had the eyes of refugees.

All that she saw and felt tired her, and she longed to shut out the world and be secure in the womb of her imagination.

A great need of something to lean on, and a great weariness of independence and responsibility took possession of my soul; and looking round for support and comfort in that transitory mood, the emptiness of the present and the blankness of the future sent me back to the past with all its ghosts.

Why does the rest of the world put up with the hypocrisy, the need to put a happy face on sorrow, the need to keep on keeping on?... I don't know the answer, I know only that I can't. I don't want any more vicissitudes, I don't want any more of this try, try again stuff. I just want out. I've had it. I am so tired. I am twenty and I am already exhausted.

But there comes a time when the old grow very tired, and the load of leadership unjustly heavy to bear. And perhaps—perhaps!—Heribert would not be quite so sad as even he now supposed, if the load should be lifted from him.

She said, "I am aweary, aweary,I would that I were dead!"

I am tired of tears and laughter,And men that laugh and weep;Of what may come hereafterFor men that sow and reap:I am weary of days and hours,Blown buds of barren flowers,Desires and dreams and powersAnd everything but sleep.

I am tired of tears and laughter, And men that laugh and weep Of what may come hereafter For men that sow to reap: I am weary of days and hours, Blown buds of barren flowers, Desires and dreams and powers And everything but sleep.

I can make no dent in anything. I have nothing left to break.

I'm tired of the news...I'm tired of anger. I'm tired of the meanness. I'm tired of selfishness...I'm tired of lying governments. I'm tired of people not caring whether they're being lied to anymore. I'm tired of being made to feel this fearful.

After some time it was borne in upon him that he could shake the colonel's shoulder all night and that would be all he would have for it.

He was tired, he realized, emotionally and physically. He wanted to lie down and turn off the world and sleep for a week.

Ahora sé cómo lucen las estrellas de verdad. Estoy harta de las imitaciones.

Todo me dolía hasta que me cansé también de eso, porque con el tiempo, el dolor aburre

Since a good part of my life has been wasted dealing with fools just like them, it's not worry I feel but weariness as I watch the approach of one more episode in the old, tired story of men who try to beat life, the smart ones who think they know it all and die with a look of surprise on their faces: at the final moment they always see the truth - they never really understood anything, never held anything in their hands. An old story, old and boring.

Acaso te causan dolor mis fatigas, mis ansias de verte, mis quejas baldías, mi tedio implacable, mi horror por la vida.

Idealism that makes no distinction between areas where our national interest lies and those from which it is remote does no good for America. The weariness of the post-Versailles, post-Korea, post-Vietnam eras is never far from the national mood.

I remember, as a child, a particular groan that my father would sound when he crawled from the bed in the morning. I hear the same groan now, precisely, every morning, when I emerge from my own lair. It's more than an expression of physical weariness - it's an aching of the soul. Even the groans get passed down.

Nothing is so wearing as the possession or abuse of liberty.

I'm the kind of person who buys a new thing, wears it so much and then is totally sick of it.