Weary Quotes - Page 20

• Without poets, without artists, men would soon weary of nature's monotony. The sublime idea men have of the universe would collapse with dizzying speed. The order which we find in nature, and which is only an effect of art, would at once vanish. Everything would break up in chaos. There would be no seasons, no civilization, no thought, no humanity; even life would give way, and the impotent void would reign everywhere.

  Guillaume Apollinaire

  Art, Men, Civilization

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• The printed page is a missionary that can go anywhere and do so at minimum cost. It enters closed lands and reaches all strata of society. It does not grow weary. It needs no furlough. It lives longer than any missionary. It never gets ill. It penetrates through the mind to the heart and conscience. It has and is producing results everywhere. It has often lain dormant yet retained its life and bloomed years later.

  Samuel Marinus Zwemer

  Christian, Heart, Years

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• I want relations which are not purely personal, based on purely personal qualities; but relations based upon some unanimous accord in truth or belief, and a harmony of purpose, rather than of personality. I am weary of personality. Let us be easy and impersonal, not forever fingering over our own souls, and the souls of our acquaintances, but trying to create a new life, a new common life, a new complete tree of life from the roots that are within us.

  D. H. Lawrence

  Life, Relationship, Roots

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• Farewell - farewell, For I am weary of the weight of time.

  William Butler Yeats

  Farewell, Weight

  William Butler Yeats (2010). “The Hour Glass”, p.17, Yokai Publishing

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• Whenever I hear some bigmouth in Washington or the Christian heartland banging on about the evils of sodomy or whatever, I mentally enter his name in my notebook and contentedly set my watch. Sooner rather than later, he will be discovered down on his weary and well-worn old knees in some dreary motel or latrine, with an expired Visa card, having tried to pay well over the odds to be peed upon by some Apache transvestite.

  Christopher Hitchens

  Notebook, Christian, Names

  Christopher Hitchens (2010). “Hitch 22: A Memoir”, p.82, Atlantic Books Ltd

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• The moon has set In a bank of jet That fringes the Western sky, The pleiads seven Have sunk from heaven And the midnight hurries by; My hopes are flown And, alas! alone On my weary couch I lie.

  Sappho

  Lying, Moon, Sky

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• The candle flame is too hot. It flickers and dances in the over-warm breeze, a breeze that brings no respite from the heat. Soft gossamer wings flutter to and fro in the dark, sprinkling dusty scaled in the circle of light. I'm struggling to resist, but I'm drawn. And then it's to bright, and I am flying too close to the sun, dazzled by the light, fried and melting from the heat, weary in my endeavers to stay airborn. I am so warm. The heat... It's stiffling, overpowering. It wakes me.

  E. L. James

  Struggle, Dark, Light

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• Death is only an old door Set in a garden wall; On quiet hinges it gives, at dusk When the thrushes call. Along the lintel are green leaves, Beyond, the light lies still; Very weary and willing feet Go over that sill. There is nothing to trouble any heart; Nothing to hurt at all. Death is only an old door In a garden wall.

  Nancy Byrd Turner

  Hurt, Wall, Lying

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• Love is when you would go to the very end of the world with her, and in case she feels weary and tired in between the journey, you would carry her till the end.

  Kenneth Williams

  Love, Tired, Journey

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• He wondered if this was what clinical depression felt like, a total numbness, a weary lack of hope.

  Dennis Lehane

  Depression, Numbness, Clinicals

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• This is why I shall not tell you in this story about all the days when nothing happened. You will not catch me saying, 'thus the sad days passed slowly by'--or 'the years rolled on their weary course'--or 'time went on'--because it is silly; of course time goes on--whether you say so or not. So I shall just tell you the nice, interesting parts--and in between you will understand that we had our meals and got up and went to bed, and dull things like that.

  E. Nesbit

  Nice, Silly, Years

  E. Nesbit (2004). “The Railway Children”, p.334, Shoes & Ships & Sealing Wax

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• And now she was back in the world, not one she could make, but the one that had made her, and she felt herself shrinking under the early evening sky. She was weary of being outdoors, but she was not ready to go in. Was that really all there was in life, indoors or out? Wasn't there somewhere else for people to go?

  Ian Mcewan

  Somewhere Else, Sky, People

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• Is it thy will, thy image should keep open My heavy eyelids to the weary night? Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken, While shadows like to thee do mock my sight? Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee So far from home into my deeds to pry, To find out shames and idle hours in me, The scope and tenor of thy jealousy? O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great: It is my love that keeps mine eye awake: Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, To play the watchman ever for thy sake: For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere, From me far off, with others all too near.

  William Shakespeare

  Love, Eye, Home

  William Shakespeare (1838). “The Pictorial edition of the works of Shakspere, ed. by C. Knight. [8 vols., including a vol. entitled William Shakspere, by C. Knight].”

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• So that's what I'm here to become. And suddenly, this word fills me with a brand of sadness I haven't felt since childhood. The kind of sadness you feel at the end of summer. When the fireflies are gone, the ponds have dried up and the plants are wilted, weary from being so green.

  Augusten Burroughs

  Summer, Sadness, Firefly

  Augusten Burroughs (2013). “Dry: A Memoir”, p.74, Macmillan

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• I kept finding the same anguish, the same doubt; a self-contempt that neither irony nor intellect seemed able to deflect. Even DuBois’s learning and Baldwin’s love and Langston’s humor eventually succumbed to its corrosive force, each man finally forced to doubt art’s redemptive power, each man finally forced to withdraw, one to Africa, one to Europe, one deeper into the bowels of Harlem, but all of them in the same weary flight, all of them exhausted, bitter men, the devil at their heels.

  Barack Obama

  Art, Men, Self

  Barack Obama (2007). “Dreams From My Father”, p.86, Canongate Books

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• He was weary of the uncertainty of the vicious circle of that eternal war that always found him in the same place, but always older, wearier, even more in the position of not knowing why, or how, or even when.

  Gabriel Garcia Marquez

  War, Circles, Knowing

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• Well, most women are full to the brim, that's all...We are, most of us, ready to explode, especially when our children are small and we are so weary with the demands for love and attention and the kind of service that makes you feel you should be wearing a uniform with "Mommy" embroidered over the left breast, over the heart...If a stranger had come up to me and said, "Do you want to talk about it? I have time to listen," I think I might have burst into tears at the relief of it.

  Elizabeth Berg

  Children, Heart, Thinking

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• Where weary folk toil, black with smoke, And hear but whistles scream, I went, all fresh from dawn and dew To carry them a dream. I went to bitter lanes and dark, Who once had known the sky, To carry them a dream-and found They had more dreams than I.

  Mary Carolyn Davies

  Dream, Dark, Sky

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• I speak for an art ... weary of its puny exploits, weary of pretending to be able, of being able, of doing a little better the same old thing, of going a little further along a dreary road.

  Samuel Beckett

  Art, Old Things, Littles

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• An old man, broken with the storms of state,
  Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
  Give him a little earth for charity!

  William Shakespeare

  Men, Broken, Giving

  'Henry VIII' (1613) act 4, sc. 2, l. 21

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• But what then? What had he really gained by all this trouble? What had he brought back from this long and weary journey? Nothing, you say? Perhaps so; nothing but a charming woman, who, strange as it may appear, made him the happiest of men! Truly, would you not for less than that make the tour around the world?

  Jules Verne

  Journey, Men, Long

  Jules Verne (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Jules Verne (Illustrated)”, p.2426, Delphi Classics

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• We must take our sentences seriously, which means we must understand them philosophically, and the odd thing is that the few who do, who take them with utter sober seriousness, the utter sober seriousness of right-wing parsons and political saviors, the owners of Pomeranians, are the liars who want to be believed, the novelists and poets, who know that the creatures they imagine have no other being than the sounding syllables which the reader will speak into his own weary and distracted head. There are no magic words. To say the words is magical enough.

  William H. Gass

  Liars, Mean, Wings

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• Thus weary of the world, away she hies, And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid Their mistress mounted through the empty skies In her light chariot quickly is convey'd; Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen Means to immure herself and not be seen.

  William Shakespeare

  Queens, Mean, Light

  William Shakespeare, William Harness (1830). “The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare”

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• My whole wretched life swam before my weary eyes, and I realized no matter what you do it's bound to be a waste of time in the end so you might as well go mad.

  Jack Kerouac

  Wisdom, Eye, Mad

  Jack Kerouac (2007). “On the Road: The Original Scroll: (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)”, p.256, Penguin

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• I was cured in my new infamy of all the tired wisdom of age. I would never weary into that tired state again - -I swore to myself, I would always be this raw, wet child hereafter.

  Clive Barker

  Children, Tired, Age

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