Quotes About Indifference

The opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference.

What did she care what became of this world when her loved ones were dead and gone?

He says everything like it happened to someone else.

I don't want to care. If I care about things, it'll just be worse, it'll just be another thing to worry about. It's less painful if I don't care.

And as things fell apart, nobody paid much attention

He was simply someone who floated through our lives and didn't seem to care how flatly he perceived everyone or that he'd shared our secret failures with the world, showcasing the youthful indifference, the gleaming nihilism, glamorizing the horror of it all.

Nothing. Nothing makes me happy. I like nothing, I tell her.

How could she ever understand that there isn't any way could be disappointed since I no longer find anything worth looking forward to?

I've been accused of being very vain about my apathy.

He wasn't, I realized when I read those scenes concerning Blair and myself, close to any of us-- except of course to Blair, and really not even to her. He was simply someone who floated through our lives and didn't seem to care how flatly he perceived everyone or that he'd shared our secret failures with the world, showcasing the youthful indifference, the gleaming nihilism, glamorizing the horror of it all. But there was no point in being angry with him.

How could she ever understand that there isn't any way I could be disappointed since I no longer find anything worth looking forward to?

I don't want to care. If I care about things, it'll just be worse, it'll just be another thing to worry about. It's less painful if I don't care.

It's hard to feel sorry for someone who doesn't care. Yeah? I ask. What do you care about? What makes you happy? Nothing. Nothing make me happy. I like nothing.

There are some guys sitting at tables who all look at this one gorgeous girl, longingly, hoping for at least one dance or a blow job in Daddy's car and there are all these girls, looking indifferent or bored, smoking clove cigarettes, all of them or at least most of them staring at one blond-haired boy standing in the back with sunglasses on. Julian

Como Jean poderia compreender que nada pode me desapontar porque não acho nada digno de ser desejado?

While taking a piss in the men's room, I stare into a thin, web-like crack above the urinal's handle and think to myself that if I were to disappear into that crack, say somehow miniaturize and slip into it, the odds are good that no one would notice I was gone. No … one … would … care.

While taking a piss in the men's room, I stare into a thin, web-like crack above the urinal's handle and think to myself that if I were to disappear into that crack, say somehow miniaturize and slip into it, the odds are good that no one would notice I was gone. No … one … would … care. In fact some, if they noticed my absence, might feel an odd, indefinable sense of relief.

And though the coldness I have always felt leaves me, the numbness doesn't and probably never will. This relationship will probably lead to nothing...this didn't change anything.

How could she ever understand that there isn't any way I could be disappointed, since I no longer find anything worth looking forward to.

There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed.

Like these girls care," Price snorts. "When I tell them what my annual income is, believe me, my behavior couldn't matter less.

How could she ever understand that there isn't any way I could be disappointed since I no longer found anything worth looking forward to?

No one cared what we watched or didn't, how we felt or what we wanted, and we hadn't yet become enthralled by the cult of victimization. It was, by comparison to what's now acceptable when children are coddled into helplessness, an age of innocence.

What is this bullshit—it is what it is?