Quotes About Restlessness

He was beastly tired, but it was hard to stop. One more book, he had told himself, then I'll stop. One more folio, just one more. One more page, then I'll go up and rest and get a bite to eat. But there was always another page after that one, and another after that, and another book waiting underneath the pile. I'll just take a quick peek to see what this one is about, he'd think, and before he knew he would be halfway through it.

Men were not meant to leave the earth. Spend too much time in the clouds and you never want to come back down again.

Some nights she drowsed, but never for more than an hour. One day, Melisandre prayed, she would not sleep at all. One day she would be free of dreams.

The dead are likely dull fellows, full of tedious complaints—the ground's too cold, my gravestone should be larger, why does he get more worms than I do …

The world is eaten up by boredom.... You can't see it all at once. It is like dust. You go about and never notice, you breathe it in, you eat and drink it. It is sifted so fine, it doesn't even grit on your teeth. But stand still for an instant and there it is, coating your face and hands. To shake off this drizzle of ashes you must be for ever on the go. And so people are always "on the go."

Well, as I was saying, the world is eaten up by boredom. To perceive this needs a little preliminary thought: you can't see it all at once. It is like dust. You go about and never notice, you breathe it in, you eat and drink it. It is sifted so fine, it doesn't even grit on your teeth. But stand still for an instant and there it is, coating your face and hands. To shake off this drizzle of ashes you must be forever on the go. And so, people are always "on the go.

Thou hast made us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee."11

It is the just doom of laziness and a gluttony to be inactive without ease, and drowsy without tranquillity.

None of us is ever satisfied with what we are.

He that is discontented in one place will seldom be happy in another.

There are three wants which can never be satisfied: that of the rich, who want something more; that of the sick, who want something different; and that of the traveler, who says, "Anywhere but here."

The world owes all its onward impulses to men ill at ease. The happy man inevitably confines himself within ancient limits.

Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own nature should determine the speed. If you become restless, speed up. If you become winded, slow down. You climb the mountain in an equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion. Then, when you're no longer thinking ahead, each footstep isn't just a means to an end, but a unique event in itself.

Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion.

A man of action forced into a state of thought is unhappy until he can get out of it.

Ja, covjek nestalna srca koji živim bez mira i radosti; gorak život o tudjem hljebu, nemirne prošlosti, pune lutanja, nesnalaženja i stradanja, nestalne, teške sadašnjosti i mra?ne budu?nosti,šiban strastima, potresen doga?ajima, i mu?en od ljudi, oboren i gažen na ulazu u život, podgrižen grijehom, i borbom proti grijehu-ja žudim svom dušom mir i molim no?as od Boga život vedar i tih da se ne kidam u sebi i ne lomim svijetom.

Pou?en svojim dugim iskustvom, ja znam da ona spava u mojoj senci kao u ?udesnom logu iz kog ustaje i javlja mi se neredovno i neo?ekivano, po zakonima kojima je teško uhvatiti kraj. ?udljivo i nepredvidljivo, kako se samo može o?ekivati od stvorenja koje je i žena i avet. I potpuno isto kao sa ženom od krvi i mesa, i sa njom dolaze na mahove u moj život sumnja i nemir i tuga, bez leka i objašnjenja.

Ko u Sarajevu provodi no? budan u krevetu, taj može da ?uje glasove sarajevske no?i.

That is why faith, wherever it develops into hope, causes not rest but unrest, not patience but impatience. It does not calm the unquiet heart, but is itself this unquiet heart in man. Those who hope in Christ can no longer put up with reality as it is, but begin to suffer under it, to contradict it. Peace with God means conflict with the world, for the goad of the promised future stabs inexorably into the flesh of every unfulfilled present.

Closing his eyes, he made it about fifteen minutes before his tossing and turning rode those pj bottoms so far up his crotch he felt like he could cough flannel. If he was doing the mattress and pillow thing, he usually slept naked and now he knew why. This was f'in ridiculous.

Maybe she just needed out. Out of Caldwell. Out of the CCJ. Out of the electronic family of her alarm clock and the phone on her desk and the TV that kept her dreams away while she slept.

Ants under the skin. As Rhage transferred his weight from one shitkicker to the other, he felt like his bloodstream had come to a soft boil and the bubbles were tickling the underside of every fucking square inch of his flesh.

Marissa could not get comfortable in her bed. No matter which way she turned or where she put the pillows, she was irritated. Somehow, her mattress had been filled with rocks, and her sheets had turned into sandpaper

What do you want out of life? I asked, and I used to ask that all the time of girls. I don't know, she said. Just wait on tables and try to get along. She yawned. I put my hand over her mouth and told her not to yawn. I tried to tell her how excited I was about life and the things we could do together; saying that, and planning to leave Denver in two days. She turned away wearily. We lay on our backs, looking at the ceiling and wondering what God had wrought when He made life so sad.