Quotes About Monotony

Day after day I took part in producing nothingness. Perhaps I was quite used to facing nothingness day after day - though I wouldn't go so far as to say we were intimate.

I used to have the same lunch every day, for 20 years, I guess, the same thing over and over again.

Most players who've been around any length of time think of training camp as a time of hard work, frustration and monotony. But I can honestly say I look forward to it.

Look how you're dressed. Your suit is blue, your shirt is blue, your tie is blue. That's what's wrong with your writing.

Yet I am still somewhat hampered. I cannot free myself from that strong, commanding voice which speaks to me, or from that mysterious power which pushes aside objects, contemptuous of their size; I am still wearied by endless monotonous roads that led nowhere. That is why I am not a perfect spirit, only an 'insane person', someone who arouses in normal people pity, contempt or fear. But I do not complain. Even like this, I am better off than those of healthy mind.

Ä°çimdeki bu k?p?rt?s?zl?kla hayat?m giderek tekdüzeleÅŸti, uÄŸraÅŸlar?m?n ve olaylar?n çeÅŸitliliÄŸine raÄŸmen günler öne ç?kan bir ÅŸey olmadan peÅŸ peÅŸe diziliyor, bir aÄŸac?n yapraklar? gibi yeÅŸeriyor ve sarar?p gidiyorlard?.

To tell the truth days are all the same size and words aren't much company.

You're so easy to read but the book is boring me.

She had long since lost the sense of her dresses and skirts and blouses; they were rote phrases of rayon and cotton that she daily intoned.

Each day was an identical package, and the gorgeousness of them was their perfect resemblance, each to the others. Like a drug, repetition changes the size of things.

The compulsively readable events of my life occurred mainly in infancy, and it's been pretty humdrum ever since.

There is nothing more boring than doing singing exercises.

Dad worked in the same shop, behind the same counter, five or six days a week, for 38 years, and hated it.

I get quite fed up being on a film set day after day, six days a week. It can get to be a grind.

Sometimes it rained, but mostly it was just dull, a land without shadows. It was like living inside Tupperware.

Boys normally attended the school for seven or eight years, beginning at the age of seven. The schoolday was long and characterized by an extreme devotion to tedium. Pupils sat on hard wooden benches from six in the morning to five or six in the evening, with only two short pauses for refreshment, six days a week.

It's just that. It's just that sometimes all I see ahead of me is TV dinners - a sort of endless line of them dancing towards me like in a cartoon - Katz

Repetition is the death of magic.

There is a fertile stretch of flat lands in Indiana where unagarian Eastern travelers, glancing from car windows, shudder and return their eyes to interior upholstery, preferring even the swaying comparisons of a Pullman to the monotony without.

It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash again the next. It made me tired just to think of it.

It was sometime in October; she had long ago lost track of all the days and it really didn't matter because one was like another and there were no nights to separate them because she never slept any more.

The reason I hadn't washed my clothes or my hair was because it seemed so silly. (...) It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash it again the next. It made me tired just to think of it. I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it.

It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash again the next. It made me tired just to think of it. I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it.

The reason I hadn't washed my clothes or my hair was because it seemed so silly. I saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next had suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue.