Quotes About Restlessness

Futile and sensitive, I'm capable of violent and consuming impulses – both good and bad, noble and vile – but never of a sentiment that endures, never of an emotion that continues, entering into the substance of my soul. Everything in me tends to go on to become something else. My soul is impatient with itself, as with a bothersome child; its restlessness keeps growing and is forever the same. Everything interests me, but nothing holds me.

I sleep and unsleep.

Cansado do universo e sociedade, Da abstracção que não finda o que é fundo Do meu fatal pôr-olhos sobre o mundo, Pobre de amor e rico de ansiedade, Já nada me seduz nem me persuade.

Wanting to go and die in Peking and not being able to is something that weighs on me like the idea of some imminent cataclysm.

By day they're full of meaningless activity; by night they're full of a meaningless lack of it.

So many times, so many, like now, it has oppressed me to feel myself feel – to feel anguish just because it's a feeling, restlessness because I'm here, nostalgia for something I've never known, the sunset of all emotions, myself yellowing, subdued to grey sadness in my external selfawareness.

Totul este orgoliu ?i incon?tien??. Totul e dorin?? de agita?ie,de a face lucruri,de a l?sa o urm?.

Naviknuta da gleda sve mirno oko sebe, tražila je nešto što je burno. More je volela samo zbog njegovih bura, zelenilo samo na proplancima me?u ruševinama. Bilo joj je potrebno da iz stvari izvla?i kao neku li?nu dobit; i odbacivala je kao nekorisno sve što nije doprinosilo neposrednom zasi?avanju njena srca, - budu?i da je bila više sentimentalne nego umetni?ke prirode, tražila uzbu?enja, a ne predele.

Sve, pa i ona sama, bilo joj je nesnosno. Želela je da odleti kao ptica, da ode nekuda da se podmladi, daleko, daleko, u prostore bez ijedne pegice.

Some people will stay at home and be content there. Others are born to run. It's that conflict that fascinates me.

I'm not someone who feels settled.

I can never be in the same place for too long. It feels like the world is caving in.

I have always just made things. I don't see what I make as being defined by a medium or aesthetic. It probably comes more from a fundamental restlessness, an attempt to create tools for questioning or understanding, and I have always been interested in using a wide spectrum of mediums to do this.

It's always hard sleeping after an evening game because you have a lot of caffeine for the game and the adrenalin is still going around your body. You go to bed and realise you're still wide awake.

Always gotta keep busy or the voices start telling me to do wild things.

I know hotel life sounds good but, believe me, it grows old when you have eaten the menu ten times over and you know you've stayed too long when you're on first-name terms with the staff.

I tend to be very impatient, thinking about all the ways we can do something, my mind and hands spinning at a very fast rate.

And when I get bored, it's like the worst parts of me come out. I really veer to self-destructive tendencies quickly.

I am miserable when everything is in order and quiet. Seriously, it's hard for me when I can go home quietly, go to sleep, and get up in the morning without fear and tension.

I'm terrible with patience.

We build buildings which are terribly restless. And buildings don't go anywhere. They shouldn't be restless.

I wanted to speak with someone, but found no time; sought some fixed point, but found none. In the midst of the unrelenting forward thrust I felt the wish to stand still. The muchness and the motion were too much and too fast. Everyone withdrew from everyone. There was a running, as of something liquefied, a constant going forth, as of evaporation. Everything was schematic, ghostlike, even myself.

It is thoughts that make all the difference between the stillness of sleep and the turmoil upon waking.

Esta atmósfera de sueño y de inquietud que lo hacía circular a través de los días como un sonámbulo, la denominaba Erdosain, «la zona de la angustia».