Quotes About Indifference

I wrote two five-page short stories, two five-page epics, to audition for my college's creative writing workshops, and was turned down both times. I was crushed, but in retrospect it was perfect training for being a writer. You can keep 'write what you know'—for a true apprenticeship, internalize the world's indifference and accept rejection and failure into your very soul.

To preempt rejection she dresses to exaggerate her difference when the true enemy is not the world's disdain but its indifference. He is surely the next item in a dreary procession and cannot be seen for all those previous disappointments.

la de la apatía generalizada que lo llevaba a una especie de muerte emocional.

A man counted only because he had a prison number. One literally became a number: dead or alive—that was unimportant; the life of a "number" was completely irrelevant.

Disgust, horror and pity are emotions that our spectator could not really feel anymore. The sufferers, the dying and the dead, became such common place sights to him after a few weeks of camp life that they could not move him anymore.

One literally became a number: dead or alive—that was unimportant; the life of a "number" was completely irrelevant. What stood behind that number and that life mattered even less; the date, the history, the name of the man.

Si la falta de emoción no hubiese despertado mi interés profesional, ahora no recordaría el incidente; en aquel momento no me suscitó ningún sentimiento.

One literally became a number: dead or alive—that was unimportant; the life of a "number" was completely irrelevant.

But nothing is so strange when one is in love (and what was this except being in love?) as the complete indifference of other people.

Once conform, once do what other people do because they do it, and a lethargy steals over all the finer nerves and faculties of the soul. She becomes all outer show and inward emptiness; dull, callous, and indifferent.

The indifference of the world which Keats and Flaubert and other men of genius have found so hard to bear was in her case not indifference but hostility. The world did not say to her as it said to them, Write if you choose; it makes no difference to me. The world said with a guffaw, Write? What's the good of your writing?

I cannot remember my past, my nose, or the colour of my eyes, or what my general opinion of myself is. Only in moments of emergency, at a crossing, at a kerb, the wish to preserve my body springs out and seizes me and stops me , here, before this omnibus. We insist, it seems, on living. Then again, indifference descends.

She did not know. She did not mind...She had a sense of being past everything, through everything, out of everything...-and one could be in it, or one could be out of it, and she was out of it.

His wife was crying, and he felt nothing; only each time she sobbed in this profound, this silent, this hopeless way, he descended another step into the pit.

That a famous library has been cursed by a woman is a matter of complete indifference to a famous library.

it being her experience that the religious ecstasy made people callous (so did causes); dulled their feelings

She put on her lace collar. She put on her new hat and he never noticed; and he was happy without her.

At this moment, I feel as if the human race had no character at all – sought for nothing, believed in nothing, & fought only from a dreary sense of duty.

The sound of Big Ben striking the half-hour struck out between them with extraordinary vigour, as if a young man, strong, indifferent, inconsiderate, were swinging dumb-bells this way and that.

We insist, it seems, on living. Then again, indifference descends.

She actually said with an emotion that she seldom let appear, Let me come with you, and he laughed. He meant yes or no - either perhaps. But it was not his meaning - it was the odd chuckle he gave, as if he had said, Throw yourself over the cliff if you like, I don't care. He turned on her cheek the heat of love, its horror, its cruelty, its unscrupulosity. It scorched her...

La indiferencia del mundo, que Keats, Flaubert y otros han encontrado tan difícil de soportar, en el caso de la mujer no era indiferencia, sino hostilidad. El mundo no le decía a ella como les decía a ellos: Escribe si quieres; a mí no me importa. El mundo le decía burlándose: ¿Escribir? ¿Para qué quieres tú escribir?.

Ä°nsan a??kken baÅŸkalar?n?n kay?ts?zl??? çok garibine gider.(s.40)

Nothing is so strange when one is in love as the complete indifference of other people.