Quotes About Futility

Sometimes I feel as if we live in hell and don't even realize it. The lacerations are endless. The lies we accept, the rituals we perform. All these useless acts.

El amor no existe. Existe sólo un mundo que trabaja, que va, que viene, que gana dinero, que usa reloj, que cuenta los minutos y los centavos y acaba podrido en un agujero, con una piedra encima que lleva el nombre del desdichado.

What have I not yet learned about the futility of worry?

Why do anything-- why wash my hair, why read Moby Dick, why fall in love, why sit through six hours of Nicholas Nickleby, why care about American intervention in Central America, why spend time trying to get into the right schools, why dance to the music when all of us are just slouching toward the same inevitable conclusion? The shortness of life, I keep saying, makes everything seem pointless when I think about the longness of death.

It is not necessary to light a candle to the sun.

One thing is certain: When the time has come, nothing which is man made will subsist. One day, all human accomplishments will be reduced to a pile of ashes. But every single child to whom a woman has given birth will live forever, for he has been given an immortal soul made to God's image and likeness. In this light, the assertion of de Beauvoir that 'women produce nothing' becomes particularly ludicrous.

I simply try to act as an honest broker for greater persons and writers than I am ... I present no theory, nor do I have one ... I have constructed no Schema ... in terms of the struggle between Eros and agape and the futility of the former in the face of the latter. I have no aspirations, hoping only to show you what some great writers thought these things are.

Soundlessly whispering into the void, my lips moving quickly, silently, without ceasing. Calling his name, calling him to me. Even though there's no use. Even though it's futile. Even though it's way past too late.

Using these toolkits is like trying to make a bookshelf out of mashed potatoes.

Resistance at all cost is the most senseless act there is.

Irony became the head that bit its tail and then there is no way out.

There's something bizarrely funny about a guy who doesn't realise he's, in essence, a dog chasing his own tail.

because you are weak and hollow and it doesn't matter anymore.

Explaining will get us nowhere.

There was probably nothing to be done about a woman like this. Dying for love might be pitiable, but it wasn't much different, finally, from any other kind of dying.

Umbrellas made vain attempts to withhold the deluge;

If a grasshopper tries to fight a lawnmower, one may admire his courage but not his judgement.

I know what I want and what I might gain, and yet, how profitless to know.

She strives, understanding the futility of it, for perfection.

Arguing whether or not God exists is like fleas arguing whether or not the dog exists. Arguing over the correct name of God is like fleas arguing over the name of the dog. And arguing over whose notion of God is correct is like fleas arguing over who owns the dog.

Maybe this was my punishment, and perhaps justly so. 'It wasn't meant to be', Khala Jamila had said. Or, maybe, it was meant not to be.

This mountain of a man was learning that his considerable might- which he'd clearly relied on for everything - was futile with her.

In other words, the square root of fuckall is fuckall.

Hell is having to execute a pointless act from which nothing ever comes except the need to do it again.