Quotes About Apathy

People hate the truth. Luckily, the truth does not care.

You're so easy to read but the book is boring me.

Cold - cold as truth, cold as life. No, nothing can be as cold as life.

Humans are mostly kind only to their own-self, and their own. To another being, they're mostly indifferent, if not inhumane.

I wasn't interested in politics. My attitude about it was, I can't make a difference no matter what I do. And the truth is, I don't even care enough to try.

I'm not insincere. I just don't care, that's all.

Never cared for what they say Never cared for games they play Never cared for what they do Never cared for what they know

People assume that if they say nothing and do nothing they're not involved in the fight, but the fact is that their apathy is a tacit vote of support for the status quo.

Because you know, truth is, I don't give a shit about some scratched-up vinyl Rahsaan Kirk, Ornette Coleman sound-like-a-goose-trying-to-fuck-a-bicycle bootleg pressing from the rare Paris concert of 1967. I spend five minutes listening to that, I'm like to want to slap somebody. I

He was a worn-out old man whose eyes had quit caring about anything but the odds on three-year-olds.

pain ignited by their indifference

Personally, I would never help mankind.

Personally I would never help mankind. -John Hammond

When you know as much as we do, nothing matters.

We're old, son, much too old. Lived long enough. Seen too much. When you know as much as we do, nothing matters. Things just repeat. Day and night, summer and winter. The world is empty and aimless. Everything circles around.

One day, you don't feel like doing anything. Nothing interests you, everything bores you. Feel more and more empty inside, more and more dissatisfied with yourself and the world in general. Then even that feeling wears off, and you don't feel anything anymore. You become completely indifferent to what goes on around you. You forget how to laugh and cry - you're cold inside and incapable of loving anything or anyone. There's no going back. The disease has a name. It's called deadly tedium.

Tessa liked her, in a dreary sort of way – the sort of way one liked picking one's nails or staying in bed all morning.

What happens when the people in charge of managing these risks, along with the experts who understand them, have no interest in them?

Charlie Ledley was even worse: He had the pallor of a mortician and the manner of a man bent on putting off, for as long as possible, definite action.

As far as I know, there's nothing more dangerous than a man who doesn't care if he lives or dies.

We would all be better off dead, useless eaters of the lotus that we are.

After the first blush of sin comes its indifference.

Neither facts nor pictures seem to sink into our centers of feeling any more.

People have moved beyond apathy, beyond skepticism into deep cynicism.