Quotes About Exhaustion

It was feeling just beyond fear and somewhere to the left of sadness. Tired, but not the kind of tired that sleep fixes. It was dark and gloomy, and yet, it didn't seem that things would get any better if the lights were turned up.

He was so sick of being with these people all the time. He loved them, sure, but he was finished with it all. The drama. The competition. The never-ending need to impress, to entertain

she lay in bed, naked because her body had become an unfamiliar possession, too precious for the touch of a nightgown, because it gave her pleasure to feel naked and to feel as if the white sheets of her bed were touched by Francisco's body—when she thought that she would not sleep, because she did not want to rest and lose the most wonderful exhaustion she had ever known...

I used to joke that we had prepared ourselves for a time like this by living with Mother. The problem with such a state of affairs was not that you did not get to do what you wanted---sometimes you did---but the effort to appease or resist the reigning deities left you so exhausted that it prevented you from ever really having fun. To this day having fun, just plain enjoying myself, comes at the cost of a conviction that I have committed an undetected crime.

Over the last fifteen months we've traveled to every corner of the United States. I've now been to fifty-seven states. I think, one left to go.

I smoke. It's expensive. It's also the best option. You see, I am always, always exhausted. It's a stimulant. When I am too tired to walk one more step, I can smoke and go for another hour. When I am enraged and beaten down and incapable of accomplishing one more thing, I can smoke and feel a little better, just for a minute. It is the only relaxation I am allowed.

Insomnia's different," I said. It was hard to explain this to people. "You know the light that comes on when you open the refrigerator door? Just imagine it stays on all the time, even after you close the door. That's what it's like in my head. The light stays on.

He] has about one idea in a year, and gets so worn out from it he has to go lie down.

For my part, I merely watched young, deprived female bosoms panting before my handsome husband, soldier of the Lord. (I longed to shout: Go ahead and try him, girls, I am too tired!)

I was exhausted but also for the first time in weeks I felt sleepiness, that rare, delicious liqueur, soaking into my body like blotter paper.

If I was not in danger, why are you so pale? I inquired. Exhaustion, Stefano replied coldly. The exertion of moving the stone was strenuous, for a cripple. I can't imagine how you did it, I murmured, letting my eyes linger on the breadth of shoulder, displayed by his wetly clinging shirt. Unperturbed by my regard, Stefano smiled. Because my leg is injured does not mean all my muscles are atrophied.

Second, a man is meant to carry such responsibility that he will descend into exhaustion and resentment if he does not have the inner resources that come from living in connection with God. This is much the same for women, but that is the subject for another book by another author. The issue for men is, as much as they might try, they cannot do what they are assigned to do without strength and energy beyond their own.

he felt as tired as if he had spent the whole night shouting at himself. While

I am stronger than depression and I am braver than loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.

I think you fall out of love with theater while you're doing your eighth show of your eighteenth week and your body is saying, "Please make this end."

I'm always on the go. I love doing things until I hit rock bottom. Then I need my 12 hours of sleep, and I'm on the go again.

I love doing radio, and I love doing stand-up, obviously. I'm good flying up to four hours, but anything past that, I want to kill myself.

Being a parent is absolutely exhausting and draining, along with all the joy and love.

Trying to obey and serve God before we've come to love Him can be exhausting.

It's delicious to have people adore you, but it's exhausting, too. Particularly when your own feelings don't match theirs.

He found he was now incapable of understanding a single word of the volumes he consulted; his very eyes stopped reading, and it seemed as if his mind, gorged with literature and art, refused to absorb any more.

Parece qu están demasiado viejitos para la vida y cansados de todo...

failed. I'm weary—weary

so convincing were those dreams of being awake that he woke from them in a state of complete exhaustion, and had to go straight back to sleep again.