Quotes About Weariness

I keep on fighting...but I can't keep going on this way

I didn't like mundane life.

All of the things that wore you down, even as that was balanced by the electric feeling of being on the side of a border where you knew things no one else knew.

What could I say? That I didn't care about living? That with every day of life more and more is being subtracted from less and less? Minus this second. Minus this second. That I was tired of collecting the millions of minutes, killing the idle thousands of hours?

Qué podía decir?¿Que me daba igual la vida?¿Que cada día me quitan más y más y me quedo con menos y menos? Un segundo menos; un segundo menos...¿Que estaba cansado de coleccionar millones de minutos de pasar miles de horas muertas?¿Que los últimos años, esperando el Alzheimer o un cáncer, no son dorados sino de latón?

The amount of all the pretending she'll have to do exhausts her.

He looks tired, like someone walked on his skin and left footprints.

Here, on a human face, appeared all the ruin following upon hopeless labour. Laveuve's unkempt beard straggled over his features, suggesting an old horse that is no longer cropped; his toothless jaws were quite askew, his eyes were vitreous, and his nose seemed to plunge into his mouth. But above all else one noticed his resemblance to some beast of burden, deformed by hard toil, lamed, worn to death, and now only good for the knackers.

a world where the same fatigue and the same fever played over every face.

I trudged down Golden Road in the dark, slipping leaflets under doors, still furious and embarrassed. The gang had felt sorry for me for having to go home. Sunny's mother after all, had laughed and simply asked her daughter if she had a jacket! I felt like such an overprotected dork. Still, I had to admit I was tired. My knees were shaking with weariness. By the time I finally reached Golden Pines, I'd almost started to be grateful to Mom for being such a worrywart.

she had to admit the essential difference between Iain and herself: he believed in the possibility of a carnation-strewn, uncomplicated life, and Lola did not. perhaps Iain had thought he could convince her, but grew weary of the endeavor.

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing.

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

The weight that hangs upon our eyelids - is of lead.

sighed and stared down at the dress. "I know. It's red. Don't start. I'm tired of hearing about it." "Funny," he said. "I don't think I could ever get tired of looking at it.

After passing four hundred Italian slave laborers swaddled in rags, Eric Sevareid took inventory of his own sentiments: "a kind of dull satisfaction, a weary incapacity for further stimulation, a desire to go home and not have to think about it anymore—and a vague wondering whether I could ever cease thinking about it as long as I lived.

All day while I've been thinking and talking about Phaedrus they must have been thinking about how bad all this is. That's what's really wearing them down. The thought.

I'm just tired of everything . . . even of the echoes. There is nothing in my life but echoes . . . echoes of lost hopes and dreams and joys. They're beautiful and mocking.

I'm tired of justice, ain't you?

I met his gaze with my own empty one. I was tired of games. Just because I could play them, and play them fairly well, didn't mean I enjoyed them.

Inside, the festivities would continue, probably well into the night, with flirtation and merriment and gratuitous use of mistletoe. It was an inexpressibly wearying thought.

Life was a battle, and Mother a tired and bitter captain

Mom closes her eyes. Her skin is a flat gray color, like underwear that has been washed so many times it's about to fall apart. I feel bad that I didn't fold more shirts for her.