Quotes About Restless

All my life I have been restless- I have felt there is something more wonderful than gloss- than wholeness- than staying at home.

But the owls themselves are not hard to find, silent and on the wing, with their ear tufts flat against their heads as they fly and their huge wings alternately gliding and flapping as they maneuver through the trees. Athena's owl of wisdom and Merlin's companion, Archimedes, were screech owls surely, not this bird with the glassy gaze, restless on the bough, nothing but blood on its mind.

Richard, marked for misery and defeat, acknowledged that power which sentiment possesses to exalt us—to convince us that our minds, endowed with a soaring, restless aspiration, can find no repose on earth except in love.

Wayward human nature will rebel against mental sloth. We must act, suffer, or enjoy; or the worst of all torments is ours - such restless agony as old poets figured as befalling a living soul imprisoned in the bark of a tree. We are not born to be cabbages.

I was often tempted, when all was at peace around me, and I the only unquiet thing that wandered so restless in a scene so beautiful and heavenly, if I except some bat, or frogs, whose harsh and interrupted croaking was heard only when I approached the shore - often, I say, was tempted to plunge into the silent lake, that the waters might close over me and my calamities forever.

I was often tempted, when all was at peace around me, and I the only unquiet thing that wandered restless in a scene so beautiful and heavenly - if I except some bat, or the frogs, whose harsh and interrupted croaking was heard only when I approached the shore - often, I say, I was tempted to plunge into the silent lake, that the waters might close over me and my calamities forever.

Wandering spirits, if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in your narrow beds, allow me this faint happiness, or take me, as your companion, away from the joys of life.

But often, in the world's most crowded streets, But often, in the din of strife, There rises an unspeakable desire After the knowledge of our buried life; A thirst to spend our fire and restless force In tracking out our true, original course; A longing to inquire Into the mystery of this heart which beats So wild, so deep in us—to know Whence our lives come and where they go.

In the end, the guards walked her out to her solitary old blue Pinto sitting in the parking lot, and she drove down the dark canyons to the freeway and the brighter lights of the Valley. She wasn't sure just why the thought of going home alone would frighten her. When she reached it, the place was quiet and normal as ever; but when she finally slept, toward six, it was not restful sleep.

That night I took a long, wandering walk through Tokyo. I was restless and felt the need to move, to let the city's currents carry me where they would.

Some things don't rest easy, even when they're dead. Their bones cry out from the ground.

I thought of myself, in those days, as someone in disguise—beneath the obedient son, beneath the straight-A student, the agreeable well-brought-up boy with his friends and his ping-pong and his semiofficial girlfriend, there was another being, restless, elusive, mocking, disruptive, imperious, and this shadowy underself had nothing to do with that other one who laughed with his friends and went to school dances and spent summer afternoons at the beach.

Dona Flor não dormiu logo; em verdade contara com a noite em claro, até a madrugada, em acampamento de fogueiras, a correr quilômetros de leito na montaria de seu corpo. Junto a ela, dr. Teodoro ressonava, densa respiração, ronco potente. Aquele ronco completou sua fisionomia de homem; forte, nobre e belo homem, seu esposo.

There was no way I'd be able to sleep tonight, or sit through school tomorrow. I had to go now.

I'm hyper, goofy. I always have to be moving, doing something.

I'm not very happy idle.

I'm too impatient.

I'm impatient.

I'm a very impatient person.

I'm impatient sometimes.

I'm very impatient.

I am doomed to an eternity of compulsive work. No set goal achieved satisfies. Success only breeds a new goal. The golden apple devoured has seeds. It is endless.

My restless, roaming spirit would not allow me to remain at home very long.

I have to admit I can be pretty high strung and tightly wound.