Quotes About Monotony

In a world of monotonous horror there could be no salvation in wild dreaming.

There is a vast world of work out there in this country, where at least 111 million people are employed in this country alone - many of whom are bored out of their minds. All day long.

There is a vast world of work out there in this country, where at least 111 million people are employed in this country alone--many of whom are bored out of their minds. All day long. Not for nothing is their motto TGIF -- 'Thank God It's Friday.' They live for the weekends, when they can go do what they really want to do.

There is no way to make this story interesting.

We toil after goals, most of them—indeed every single one of them—of transitory significance and, having gained one of them, we immediately set forth for the next, as if that one had never been, with this next one being essentially more of the same. Look at a busy street any day, and observe the throng going hither and thither. To what? Some office or shop, where the same things will be done today as were done yesterday, and are done now so they may be repeated tomorrow…

while the teletypes chugged and rang and the Wall Street tickers ticked and everybody around me argued baseball, until it was mercifully time to go home.

Was this all there was to life, after all? You finished school, found an occupation, got married, became a father, watched your wife die, and then lived through days and nights that seemed to have no sunrises, no dawns and no dusks, nothing but a gray drabness.

Monotony? Have we not always had the same stars and the same sky above us, changing only in its shades of blue and gray and purple black? And who shall say that such themes are exhausted? Have we not always had love and passion, war and peace, summer and winter and spring and fall with us? And are these things unable longer to impel us to spiritual variations?

I get tired of other girls—there is such a provoking and eternal sameness about them.

Most of the world goes through the motions of life in general, blissfully unaware of anything beyond their lives.

It's remarkable how we go on year after year, doing the same old things. We get tired and bored, and ask when they'll come for us

Haven't written here in several days, I don't know how many: All the days seem like one. All the days have one color—yellow, like parched, fiery sand. And there isn't a shred of shade, nor a drop of water, and no end of the yellow sand.

What a tragedy that would have been, living an interchangeable life, looking for interchangeable excitements.

Desafíos hacen que la vida sea interesante. Puede usted imaginar cómo la vida monótona y aburrida sería, si todos los días iba a ser tan suave y fácil? Además, Dios le ofrece a esos retos para su propio avance, debido a estar mejor y más fuerte por superarlos. Mantener sus esperanzas, y ser positivo!

What novelty is worth that sweet monotony where everything is known, and loved because it is known?

People, chained by monotony, afraid to think, clinging to certainties... they live like ants.

I didn't like mundane life.

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?

I felt like I was going through the motions of living my lukewarm life with the occasional flare-ups of awesomeness here and there.

Did you know the local tv channels broadcasts your 900 in an endless loop? It's a bunch of video want ads for snowmobiles, then some kind of school crap with Everett Walsh that nobody wants to see over and over,and then you.

The sky above the buildings outside their apartment windows is the color of a dusty chalkboard, and the light coming down onto the street is exactly the color of boredom.

There was widespread chagrin over not being able to buy Panamanian rum from the bumboats that swarmed both ends of the canal, but it soon dissolved into the monotony peculiar to long voyages. Everyone resisted this at first; they were bored, stymied, restless. But within a few days, peace overcame the ship like a sigh—the relief of knowing this was all there was, or would be, for some weeks. Men

repetitive dullness and infantile content of profanity