Quotes About Exhaustion

I think blogging is a muscle that most people wear out.

I just get tired of the same rehashing of lies and myths.

He was always on the verge of sleep, a middle area that provided no rest.

But life in the fast lane took a toll on men who cared and it was eating Jonas one small piece at a time.

He groaned and dropped into the nearest kitchen chair, pushing his head into his hands. "Death by peanut butter. I never thought I'd go that way.

At the other end of life are elders with severe dementia. The final stage of Alzheimer's and other neurodegenerative diseases is marked by extreme apathy and exhaustion. Individuals cease speaking, gesturing, and even swallowing. Has their conscious mind permanently left its abode, a shrunken brain full of neurofibrillary tangles and amyloid plaques?

Now, can we please abandon such weighty conversation? I have become thoroughly exhausted with thoughts of fate, destiny, justice, and other, equally gloomy topics over the past few days. As far as I am concerned, philosophic questioning is just as likely to make you confused and depressed as it is to improve your condition.

Riding at full gallop for three days--combined with less than three hours of sleep for every twelve spent in the saddle--had left him frighteningly weak. I might as well be going into battle drunk, sick, and beaten half out of my senses .

There comes a time for everybody when words and reasons can become such a great weariness.

I was that kind of tired you feel when you've spent a day in a hospital while a loved one undergoes surgery and comes through all right, the loved one, of course, being myself, and Christmas being the surgical procedure.

Great griefs exhaust. They discourage us with life. The man into whom they enter feels something taken from him. In youth, their visit is sad; later on, it is ominous.

It is an error to imagine that fate can be exhausted, and that one has reached the bottom of anything whatever.

It hurts almost more than I can bear. Tears sting my eyes again; I wipe them away impatiently. I am so tired of crying, so tired of feeling like half a person, but I don't know how to change things... (I have never felt so lost and alone.)

The trip from Portland to New York City was like climbing Mount Everest without oxygen. It went on and on, and by the time you reached your destination, there was no sensation left in your extremities.

city becomes one long line. Everything is disappearing, especially politeness. Rations are consistently being cut, and often there is no food to be had, even with a ration card. Vera, like everyone else, is tired and hungry and afraid.

By the time she reached her floor, Ruby was wheezing so badly she sounded like Shelley Winters after her swim in The Poseidon Adventure, and she was practically that wet. Sweat slid down her forehead and caught on her eyelashes, blurring everything.

Isabelle sat down beside MacLeish and leaned tiredly against him. "You're a wonder," he said in a hushed voice. "I've been told I don't make smart decisions. This may be proof of that." She shivered, whether from cold or exhaustion, she didn't know. "Dumb but brave," he said with a smile. Isabelle was grateful for the conversation. "That's me.

Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion... I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.

He looked tired, exhausted even, but it was as if this were the specific thing that had exhausted him, not ordinary everyday matters but one single all-consuming care; it was obviously a fatigue born out of decades of vigilance, exhaustion owing to the knowledge that any moment he might be killed by that immeasurable weight of fat.

For minutes on end he could not tell whether he was really hearing howls of pain, or whether it was simply that his years of long, exhausting work had rendered him incapable of distinguishing between the general noise and ancient prehistoric screams that were somehow preserved in time and now were being raised by the rain, like dust.

Momentum was part of the exhilaration and the exhaustion of the twentieth century which Coward decoded for the British but borrowed wholesale from the Americans.

A wave of weariness took him. How could life be so unrelentingly ugly?

To be so tired was like evaporating. Water to vapor. Flesh to ghost. Bit by bit, from the surface inward, you feel yourself begin to disappear, or at least to be translated into another state--from a tangible one, blood and spirit, to a kind of lost and drifting mist.

You fall so deeply in love with your grandbaby. It's so so so much easier than being a parent, because you really don't have much responsibility. And just when you are at the end of your rope with exhaustion, the parents take the baby away. So it's the best of both worlds.