Quotes About Exhaustion

I have been photographed to death.

I can't turn on the television without seeing me, or open the newspaper without seeing me and, honestly, I'm sick to death of me.

I'm working myself to death.

It's such a pointless unhappiness. I am so tired of it. Sounds odd, doesn't it? But I am so tired of being unhappy

His face looked almost as gray as his suit, and the pouches beneath his eyes looked like little bags for holding all the sadness that his head couldn't hold.

This is hell. Today, in our times, hell must be like this. A huge, empty room: we are tired, standing on our feet, with a tap which drips while we cannot drink the water, and we wait for something which will certainly be terrible, and nothing happens and nothing continues to happen.

in our times, hell must be like this. A huge, empty room: we are tired, standing on our feet, with a tap which drips while we cannot drink the water, and we wait for something which will certainly be terrible, and nothing happens and nothing continues to happen. What

One hesitates to call them living: one hesitates to call their death death, in the face of which they have no fear, as they are too tired to understand.

This is hell. Today, in our times, hell must be like this. A huge, empty room: we are tired, standing on our feet, with a tap which drips while we cannot drink the water, and we wait for something which will certainly be terrible, and nothing happens and nothing continues to happen. What can one think about? One cannot think any more, it is like being already dead. Someone sits down on the ground. The time passes drop by drop.

When you sleep later than a vampire, Claire thought, that's probably taking it a little too far.

You are so lucky I'm too tired to murder you right now.

When you're a new mother, you're just in a fog of hormones and exhaustion most of the time.

All she wanted to do was sleep. She'd have taken a ride with Satan in his big red handbasket if it had helped her get off her feet for a few minutes.

Some, perhaps, would fall by the way. Some, old or sick, would drop out of the caravan and creep away into a solitary place to die; others would be picked off by gunners, defying the law for the fancied pleasure of stopping in full flight a brave and fiercely burning life; still others, perhaps, would fall in exhaustion into the sea...In them burned one more the fever of migration, consuming with its fires all other desires and passions.

The exhaustion of living was just too much for me

Their melancholy drains me. Their need exhausts me. I am wrung by pity. Sometimes it seems that to exit this world, they must go through my heart, leaving it scarred and sore.

Life has taught her that it's mentally exhausting and spiritually depressing

pace the corridor back and forth until I wear the edge off my nerves or just collapse unconscious from exhaustion

Protracted self-promotion drains something essential from the soul

This was nonsense, he thought. The need of her was a physical thing, like the thirsty of a sailor becalmed for weeks on the sea. He'd felt the need before, often, often, in their years apart. But why now? She was safe; he knew where she was - was it only the exhaustion of the past weeks and days, or perhaps the weakness of creeping age that made his bones ache, as though she had in fact been torn from his body, as God had made Eve from Adam's rib?

Fighting was an exhausting business, and so was fear.

risings in two days were taking their toll.

though testing his vision. "Fades a bit sometimes," he explained, "if I'm verra tired. Things

elbow. I had been without sleep for most of the last three days