Quotes About Futility

Tout dans ce monde est absurde : la nature est bête, la destinée est simplette, et la vie ne vaut pas un kopeck.

And then I realized how powerless I was to revoke my own joke when throughout my life as a whole I was involved in a joke much more vast (all-embracing for me) and utterly irrevocable.

What he yearned for at that moment, vaguely but with all his might, was unbounded music, absolute sound, a pleasant and happy all-encompassing, over-powering, window-rattling din to engulf, once and for all, the pain, the futility, the vanity of words. Music was the negation of sentences, music was the anti-word!

Bilo je uzaludno razumom napadati ?vrste bedeme iracionalnih osje?aja od kojih je, kažu, umiješana ženska duša. Naš je razgovor od samog po?etka dobio loš predznak.

Faptele inseamna prea putin fata de o anumita stare de spirit. Combaterea zvonurilor sau a unei stari de spirit e tot atat de zadarnica si de inutila ca si incercarea de a risipi in ochii unui credincios dogma despre imaculata conceptie.

cuando gana en una tómbola una bicicleta. Como si los dos supiéramos que nos habían regalado una casualidad enormemente valiosa que, sin embargo, no nos iba a servir para nada.

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

Hope on you is worthless because you make a mark to forgot

Man, it really gets me down. When everything's exhausted there's nothing left. The rate I was running, it wouldn't be long. Then what? What's next? What's the score? I can't handle the rest of my life suspended in boredom. Such a chore! Gonna burn out because I can't stand to fade away. Get it all in fast and get out. No turning back now. It's just the way it is, the way I need to be.

I mean, what's the sense in being a hero when there's no one left to save? Oh

Most people's deaths are a sham. There's nothing left to die.

All those men had died for some senseless reason, died perhaps without ever knowing exactly what they had fought to accomplish.

There was a man and he had eight sons. Apart from that, he was nothing more than a comma on the page of History. It's sad, but that's all you can say about some people.

I've seen men die valiantly. There's no future in it.

Lucy stood thinking how little point there seemed in any past so far away, and how little point there seemed in talking of the future over which they had not the least control, toiling as they were toward something she could scarcely imagine.

It's almost as if we're invisible to them, even the ones with eyes intact, I murmur as I rise. The Winter Court tirelessly hunted us for a nightmarish eternity, yet here we are—and not one of them seems to care. Don't count on it.

My mom would say that crying for the moon is a lot like sitting in a rocking chair: It keeps you busy but it won't get you anywhere.

Tragedy occurs whenever awareness exceeds power; and particularly where awareness of a major need exceeds the power to satisfy it.

On Earth, Liz was constantly occupied with studying and finding a college and a career and all those other things that the adults in her life deemed terribly important. Since she had died, everything she was doing on Earth had seemed entirely meaningless. From Liz's point of view, the question of what her life would be was now definitively answered. The story of her life is short and pointless: There once was a girl who got hit by a car and died. The end.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.

Did it matter whether I was a bad hamster or a good hamster? I was still running on a wheel to nowhere.

All things cyclical sustain hope. All things cyclical imply futility.

Timothy supposed this was what you got when you crossed youthful idealism with anger and a sense of futility. And weed.

Tears came to him. He wept quietly, holding nothing back. He mourned mankind, and the blindness of men, who thought that the Kosmos had rules that would shelter them from their own freedom. There were no shelters. There were no final purposes. Futility, and freedom, were Absolute.