Quotes About Exhausted

It is an age of exhausted whoredom groping for its god.

I got fed up with being in bands. I spent a couple of years touring the country in a smoked filled band, doing lots of drugs and being really unhealthy.

I gave up the notion of writing the life of Joan of Arc, as I found that there was absolutely no new material to be gleaned on her history - in fact, she had been thrashed out.

In the spring of the year birds began to arrive on the beach from across the gulf. Weary passerines. Vireos. Kingbirds and grosbeaks. Too exhausted to move. You could pick them up out of the sand and hold them trembling in your palm. Their small hearts beating and their eyes shuttering. He walked the beach with his flashlight the whole of the night to fend away predators and toward the dawn he slept with them in the sand. That none disturb these passengers.

The survivors lay quietly in that cratered void and watched the whitehot stars go rifling down the dark. Or slept with their alien hearts beating in the sand like pilgrims exhausted upon the face of the planet Anareta, clutched to a namelessness wheeling in the night.

You'd be a woreout sumbuck. I'll tell you that. Think how good you'd sleep.

The world around them was as still as if it had used up all the words, as if all the tales there were to tell in this world had now been told.

But I was living my life sideway. I did not act on what I wanted, I did not say the things I thought, and being so stifled and clamped all the time left me exhausted; no matter what I was doing, I was always imagining something else.

run run run Hermione. You have in your hands a message and a token...run and run and run and run Hermione. You know running and running and running that the messenger will take (lampadephoros) your message in its fervour and you will sink down exhausted...run,run, Hermione. For the message-bearer next in line has turned against you...dead, dead or forgotten. Hecate at crossroads, a destruction...

remember the golden apple-trees; O, do not pity them, as you watch them drop one by one, for they fall exhausted, numb, blind but in certain ecstasy, for theirs is the hunger for Paradise.

To read forward Why should Europeans not be able to read, even when we write in the language they understand? They cannot read because they (as "Europeans," caught in the snare of an exhausted but self-nostalgic metaphor) are assimilating what they read back into that snare and into what they already know – and are thus incapable of projecting it forward into something they may not know and yet might be able to learn.

I'm too tired to reign over vampirekind, let alone enslave the human race.

I felt once more the strange equivocal power of the city—its flat alluvial landscape and exhausted airs… Alexandria; which is neither Greek, Syrian nor Egyptian, but a hybrid: a joint.

I've got a new invention. It's a revolving bowl for tired goldfish.

I am so tired, I can hardly type these worfs.

I am worn out with civility.

I took pain pills to get to sleep because I didn't want to go to work the next day exhausted.

It used to be in the Senate that if you were filibustering, you stood up. There was a physical dimension to it, that you - when you became exhausted you would have to leave the floor. That was the idea of the filibuster.

Work is the order of the day, just as it was at one time, with our first starts and our best efforts. Do you remember? Therein lies its delight. It brings back the forgotten; one's stores of energy, seemingly exhausted, come back to life.

I was working straight for nine months and I'm exhausted. I'm ready to relax for a little while and read. I don't want to work for work sake; I have to be excited about it.

I don't think a director should have any kids. I don't even think it's good for your physical health. Even guys in their 30s look exhausted because directors never get enough sleep. What I do is stressful enough.

I am sick to death of cleverness.  Everybody is clever nowadays.  You can't go anywhere without meeting clever people.  The thing has become an absolute public nuisance. 

She thought she brought a gift of compassion for those exhausted souls who had not received a chest portion from the people who raised them. If compassion and therapy did not work, she could always send her patients to the local pharmacy for drugs.

I was suddenly exhausted, depleted down to the very center of the soul, and I rested my head on the back of the chair, closing my eyes and trying to clear my mind.