Quotes About Restlessness

Rums, wie die Fliege

Over the years loved ones have said I'm a chronically dissatisfied person, and it's true I'd always rather be where I'm not at the time.

It just isn't bearable to be fully awake.

In a simpler time, advertising merely called attention to the product and extolled its advantages. Now it manufactures a product of its own: the consumer, perpetually unsatisfied, restless, anxious, and bored. Advertising serves not so much to advertise products as to promote consumption as a way of life. It 'educates' the masses into an unappeasable appetite not only for goods but for new experiences and personal fulfillment.

Loveable as he is, Lawrence is a hyperkinetic freak, and the world is far too full of marvels and joys for him to ever do anything except lunge and swerve toward whatever catches his eye.

What absurd victims of contrary desires we are! If a man is settled in one place he yearns to wander; when he wanders he yearns to have a home. And yet how bestial is content—all the great things in life are done by discontented people.

That's the kind of thing, if you get to thinking about, that could wake you in the middle of night. I didn't want my nights to have any middles.

That's the kind of thing that will wake you up in the middle of the night. I don't want to have a night with any middle

A marsh pheasant has to walk ten paces for a bite to eat and a hundred for a sip of water. But still it wouldn't want to be tamed and put into a cage. Even treated like a king, it could never be happy and content.

For years now, I've wanted to fall asleep. The sort of slipping off, the giving up, the falling part of sleep. Now sleeping is the last thing I want to do.

The same feeling of not belonging, of futility, wherever I go: I pretend interest in what matters nothing to me, I bestir myself mechanically or out of charity, without ever being caught up, without ever being somewhere. What attracts me is elsewhere, and I don't know what that elsewhere is.

in the mechanics of the ordinary, working week. Sundays could feel very threadbare, and raw. Why could he not relax and enjoy them like other men who took a pint or two after Mass before falling asleep at the fire with the newspaper, having eaten a plate of dinner?

Living is like being tired and not being able to sleep.

But she didn't want to rest! – Her blood ran through her more slowly, its pace domesticated, like a beast that had trained its steps to fit in its cage.

Meu impulso de todos os momentos é ir embora.

I know that my phrases are crude, I write them with too much love, and that love makes up for their faults, but too much love is bad for the work. I'm restless and harsh and despairing. Although I do have love inside me. I just don't know how to use love. Sometimes it tears at my flesh. But when winter comes I give and give and give. The excess of me starts to hurt and when I'm excessive I have to give of myself.

Anchored in unknowing, I yearn to rise out of the restlessness of my own forms of helplessness inside a structure that constricts possibilities.

She just stood there and looked at the empty highway, and you could almost tell how bored she was by the way she stood.

Insomnia is a gross feeder. It will nourish itself on any kind of thinking, including thinking about not thinking.

I feel restless, and something seems to weigh me down.

Quite. Well., I haven't met the lady myself, but before she came we just had nice quiet larcenies, dopings, muggings, and the like. But since her arrival, it's been shootings, abductions, and now murders--the lot. I suppose you wouldn't like to take her back to London with you and give us all a rest?

O tédio é a paciência do medo.

I wanted this world to still. I wanted to fix it and be fixed within it. But everything was on the move, the clouds, the wind...

We are, perhaps, uniquely among the earth's creatures, the worrying animal. We worry away our lives, fearing the future, discontent with the present, unable to take in the idea of dying, unable to sit still.