Quotes About Restless

Je porte en moi une âme corrompue par le monde, une imagination inquiète, un cÅ"ur insatiable; pour moi tout est petit : je m'habitue au chagrin aussi facilement qu'au plaisir, et ma vie devient plus vaine de jour en jour.

I hope something happens. I'm restless as the devil and have a horror of getting fat or falling in love and growing domestic.

water sleeps, and enemy is sleepless.' Who

Sighing restlessly, the boundless sea broke huge rollers into white cream which hissed hungrily up to the tideline.

As she grew older, Erin accepted the fact that her mother was a restless gold digger who would never be happy, never be satisfied. On the other hand, her husbands knew exactly what they were getting and didn't seem to care. It taught Erin one of life's great lessons: an attractive woman could get whatever she wanted, because men were so laughably weak.

I was so keen to get back to sea. I was rattled.

A song will keep going round in my brain and keep me awake.

My heart has jet lag.

I'm restless, bored, and invisible. A dangerous thing for any woman to be.

as jittery as a caffeine addict outside a closed Starbucks.

There is an unease in you, too, which I sensed. You remind me of an anchor searching for a spot to latch on to.

Thus we are driven, lost souls, from camp-fire flame to camp-fire flame, know nothing of our next rest and nothing of the journey's aim

Maybe the spirits don't want to be quieted.

Chapter 1 In the bitter cold of a late December night, the gargoyle's sharp gaze scanned restlessly over the deserted streets of Dublin. Not far below, the clock in the tower of St. Patrick's Cathedral began to strike midnight. The sound of the bell reverberated on a breeze brittle with the promise of snow, skittering among the city's chimneys and across frost-kissed slate roofs. Very soon, the rhythm was picked up by other clocks elsewhere in the sleeping city.

Abitha is dead, they killed her, all that is left is wrath and malice … my restless soul. Do you understand?

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

tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote.

And heaved and heaved, still unrestingly heaved the black sea

I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote.

Thinking, thinking—a wheel I cannot stop; pure want of sleep it is that turns it.

I shared a vagrant optimism that some of us were making real progress, that we had taken an honest road, and that the best of us would inevitably make it over the top. At the same time, I felt that the life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actor, kidding ourselves on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between those two poles - a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other - that kept me going.

It was the tension between these two poles - a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other - that kept me going.

At the same time, I shared a dark suspicion that the life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actors, kidding ourselves along on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between these two poles—a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other—that kept me going.

Like most of the others, I was a seeker, a mover, a malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser.