Quotes About Apathy

If somebody had shouted at me, Look out behind you! He's got a gun! I would have replied with no more than a weary mumble, Tell him to take a number and wait.

Whatever made me the way I am left me hollow, empty inside, unable to feel. It doesn't seem like a big deal.

Other people are less important to me than lawn furniture.

Dexter the sofa spud ...

And why did I actually give a single hummingbird's fart what it meant?

The world, a tired performer, offers us another half-assed season.

Apesar de todos os cuidados e reclamações sobre ervas daninhas, eles não davam a mínima para os gramados.

I should have been moved. I wasn't. It was as if I'd been frozen, as if I was now a woman made of ice, and he'd come at me not with a torch or even a candle, but with a toothpick, and was plink plink plinking against the smooth impenetrability of my body. I couldn't feel a thing.

nu înc?pea îndoial? c? prezentam toate simptomele, cel mai important fiind totala lips? de poft? pentru orice fel de activitate. N-am cuvinte s? v? spun cât suf?r în aceast? privin??. Am fost un martir din cea mai fraged? copil?rie.

She might be pointing to a doorway, or a person, or the sky. But such things were so common to my eyes, so undistinguished, that they would register as nothing I walked in a gray world of nothing.

I would just spit, burp, and call good riddance! Who needs ya? Who cares?

What else would you expect? Whites never go inside black's homes. Much less inside their thoughts and feelings. And blacks are just as ignorant of whites. What white kid could hate blacks after spending five minutes in the Beale's house? And what bleak kid could hat whites after answering Mrs. Pickwell's dinner whistle? But the East Enders stayed in the east and the West Enders stayed in the west, and the less they knew about each other, the more they invented.

He looked at her, in her red plaid skirt and strawberry T-shirt, a woman not yet thirty, who loved neither her husband nor her children, who had already fallen out of love with life.

He wasn't surprised. He was used to this anticlimactic feeling, where by the time you've done all the work to get something you don't even want it anymore.

My interest in my work dies a sudden and violent death when the work is done.

I was a disinterested student.

I actually was a good student, but I never applied myself 'cause I was always like, 'I don't love doing this.' I wasn't passionate about school. I always got a B just to pass. But what's crazy is I got a 29 on my ACT test without even studying. So I was always, like, just smart - but never really cared.

I don't really pay attention to the news or stuff like that or what's going on in politics.

Politics goes in one ear and out the other. I don't even know the president's name for sure. That's how stupid I am.

I have no consistency, except in politics; and that probably arises from my indifference to the subject altogether.

Slums may well be breeding grounds of crime, but middle class suburbs are incubators of apathy and delirium.

Vote for Nobody because Nobody Cares,

I must emphasize and explain repeatedly the moral dimensions of all social life, and point out that morality is, in fact, hidden in everything. And this is true; whenever I encounter a problem in my work and try to get to the bottom of it, I always discover some moral aspect, be it apathy, unwillingness to recognize personal error or guilt, reluctance to give up certain positions and the advantages flowing from them, envy, an excess of self-assurance, or whatever.

Like many isolated people, they were wrapped up in themselves and not too interested in the world outside.