Quotes About Fatigue

For now my body is a champion cause he never told me to backdown im tired, ENOUGH

I cannot do this anymore. I cannot pull myself together again and spend the next fifteen hours of wakefulness fending off the fact of my own misery.

Upstairs, right now," Wade said. "You need a nap." "No, I don't, I'm—" A deep yawn cut off her words. He held up his hand. "Don't want to hear it." "Better do it," Maddy added. "When he uses that voice, there's no changing his mind.

Sometimes the mountain is hidden from me in veils of cloud, sometimes I am hidden from the mountain in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue, when I forget or refuse to go down to the shore or a few yards up the road, on a clear day, to reconfirm that witnessing presence.

Certain kinds of knowledge rob people of their sleep.

yaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwwwnnnnnnnnn smack smack smack

What could I say? That I didn't care about living? That with every day of life more and more is being subtracted from less and less? Minus this second. Minus this second. That I was tired of collecting the millions of minutes, killing the idle thousands of hours?

Thank you, 4:00 p.m., for being the time of day that thoroughly confuses me: post-homework and pre-dinner. I am already exhausted and fairly irritable. The children are losing their ever-loving minds, and husband is still tucked away in his sane office with all mental faculties intact and won't answer my SOS texts to hurry and come home or their blood is on your hands. Do I make a coffee? Or pour a glass of wine? Yours, Witching-Hour Survivor.

I guess we both understood that our relationship was built entirely on witty repartee, and neither of us thought we could be witty on four hours of shut-eye.

He looks tired, like someone walked on his skin and left footprints.

In the weeks since a mysterious fatigue had confined him to his bed, Gregory and Dennis had perfected the art of conversing between rooms.

All his [Laurent's] great powerful body wanted was to do nothing, to wallow in never-ending idleness and self-indulgence. He would have liked to eat well, sleep well, satisfy his passions liberally, without stirring from one spot or risking the misfortune of a bit of fatigue.

What misery! and all these girls, broken by fatigue, were silly enough to come here at night and make babies, more flesh to toil and suffer! It would never end while they went on getting themselves filled with starvelings.Ought they rather not stop up their wombs and close their thighs tight against approaching disaster? But then, perhaps he was only harbouring these dismal thoughts because he resented being alone, when all the others were pairing off to take their pleasure.

a world where the same fatigue and the same fever played over every face.

Sentía un abatimiento grande, agujetas,cansancio, y al mismo tiempo una excitación, unas ganas de echar a andar, de huir de si misma, de no verse ni oirse!

It is a long fight, I wish it were over!

I was tired," she says. "I made a mistake." "You're not tired anymore?" She doesn't say anything. Then she says, "I am. But it's OK.

Sitting watching Anna's eyelids flicker some hours later, Lib found herself longing for the sleep she should have had that afternoon. But this was an old battle, and like any nurse, she knew she could win if she spoke to herself severely enough. The

In my experience of ward nursing, two shifts are more conducive to sleep than three." "But

I am still tired, and I begin to realize that the cure for tiredness is not rest.

RECREATION, n. A particular kind of dejection to relieve a general fatigue.

Fatigue overtakes me, and a grief so concentrated I swim in it. A grief that makes my arms heavy. A grief that makes my back slump. A grief that makes me close my eyes. I want to sleep like the unborn and the dead. I want to sleep so deeply that I see him again. I want to confront him. Who were you? I want to say. Why do you talk to me now? I want to shake his inert body. But what's the use? Our losses will never be done with us. They have endless patience.

Such a fatigue of adjectives, a drone of alliterations, a huffing of hyphenated words hurdling the meter like tired horses. Such a faded upholstery of tears, stars, bells, bones, flood and blood†a thud of consonants in tongue, night, dark, dust, seed, wound and wind.

But my eyelids are heavy. I fight to keep them open, fight as always the loss of control, which feels like the ultimate loss of choice.