Quotes About Futility

It is idle to play the lyre for an ass.

He pursued false shadows and had nothing to show for it but exhaustion.

No, I regret nothing, all I regret is having been born, dying is such a long tiresome business I always found.

I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game. Whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time.

It is vain futility to analyze the algebra of time.

I'm not going to waste my time trying 'break' America, you know what I mean? Too many people have died trying to break America. America doesn't break unless it wants to.

If you try to impress an alarm clock, it will simply tell you the time.

A mature artist is at the same time aware of the futility of his achievement and the validity of the pursuit.

And to kill time while awaiting death, I smoke slender cigarettes thumbing my nose to the gods.

It kills me to be time's eunuch and never to beget.

Iubitorul de flori va primi de la mine doar zadarnice jerbe funerare.

and Liam was a dead loss from day one, thinking he'd be

It is better to have nothing, for at last even our bones will fall. It is better to have nothing.

I have had a certain amount of experience with skepticism and the conversation it generates, and there is an inevitable futility in it.

The trying to change what they think, the attempt to explain, the hope they'll come to see your side of things, it was exhausting because it never made a dent and afterward you only ached unbearably.

the story of a quest for wealth, given enough time, will always seem like the vain pursuit of a mirage.

Era mais um agente funerário do que um médico; acho que nunca consegui salvar um único paciente. Estavam em estado terminal quando eu chegava; quando muito consegui prolongar-lhes a agonia.

My son, my son. When I had my son I would explain all that to him when he was starry enough to like understand. But then I knew he would not understand or would not want to understand at all and would do all the veshches I had done, yes perhaps even killing some poor starry forella surrounded with mewing kots and koshkas, and I would not be able to really stop him. And nor would he be able to stop his own son, brothers. And so it would itty on to like the end of the world...

It had neither memories of the past nor hope for the future.

Love is pointless. It's the same sad sad story of with the same inevitable ending of miserable deterioration.

Futilitarianism.

Reverie by the open window in the sweet futility of a mild evening was yet to strike the Australian male as a requirement. (There would be the question of fly screens, for one thing.)

wherever she goes she will only find the same hell she was running away from.

But it was a lost cause. Like trying to find yesterday. You get the picture?