That's the real power of art, I think. Not to chide but to provoke challenge. Otherwise why bother?
Chess is one thing, but if we get to the point computers can best humans in the arts-those splendid, millennia-old expressions of the heart and soul of human existence-then why bother existing? to produce human art a computer would have to find, feel, absorb reality to the point it is overcome, to the point it sobs for release. A computer perhaps could replicate every possibility but could never transfer the energy art requires to exist in the first place.
People keep asking me whether I'm going to vote for Obama or McCain in the election. But I'm like, why bother? There will never be another leader as good as he was.
Sometimes I get the feeling that there are orgies going on all over new York City, and somebody says, `Let's call Desmond,' and somebody else says, 'Why bother? He's probably home reading the Encyclopedia Britannica.'
If you know you can do it - if you can already chart every day in your future - then why bother? Choose to do something you have more trouble imagining. Take a chance.
Why bother lifting weights if you aren't following a sound nutritional regimen? Sure, it may be fun, but are you really accomplishing anything?
MySpace is a great way to keep in touch with friends who you don't care enough about to actually have a conversation with, why bother calling to say "how are you," when you can just surf their page and post an mpeg of a guy farting on his cat.
First, perseverance trumps talent. Second, do what you want to do, otherwise why bother? Third, be ethical; it might rub off on others. Fourth, don't give up.
If there is no God, why bother to tell the truth? Why not steal?
Why bother with Google when I have a wife who knows everything about everything!
I used to do miserably in English literature, which I thought was a sign of moral turpitude. As I look back on it, I think it was rather to my credit. The notion of actually putting writers' words into other words is quite ridiculous because why bother if writers mean what they mean, and if they don't, why read them? There is, I suppose, a case for studying literary works in depth, but I don't quite know what 'in depth' means unless you read a paragraph over and over again.
Someone could be amazing at what they do, but if you don't like them, why bother hiring them?
You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down... So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. In climbing, take careful note of the difficulties along your way; for as you go up , you can observe them. Coming down, you will no longer see them, but you will know they are there if you have observed them well.
If halfway love is all you want or all you care to give, why bother with love at all and only halfway live.
If I am thinking the same as everyone why bother pushing to get it published?
I utterly reject the view that the Third World is doomed to poverty and starvation. Not only is this wrong, I think this attitude verges on the immoral, like thinking that slavery is an unalterable facet of the human condition so why bother doing anything about it?
The mystery lies in the here and now. The mystery is: What is one to do with oneself? As you get older you begin to realize the trick time is playing, and that unless you do something about it, the passage of time is nothing but the encroachment of the horrible banality of the past on the pure future. The past devours the future like a tape recorder, converting pure possibility into banality. The present is the tape head, the mouth of time. Then where is the mystery and why bother kicking through the ashes? Because there is a clue in the past.
My dad finds Twitter just infinitely unrelatable. He's like, 'Why would I want to tell anybody what I had for a snack, it's private?!' And I'm like, 'Why would you even have a snack if you didn't tell anybody? Why bother eating?'
Charley: If you‘re not going to tell me where you are, if you‘re not going to trust me to help you, then why are you here? Why bother? Reyes: Because you‘re the reason I breathe.
Why bother with a cunning plan when a simple one will do?
I was perpetually grief-stricken when I finished a book, and would slide down from my sitting position on the bed, put my cheek on the pillow and sigh for a long time. It seemed there would never be another book. It was all over, the book was dead. It lay in its bent cover by my hand. What was the use? Why bother dragging the weight of my small body down to dinner? Why move? Why breathe? The book had left me, and there was no reason to go on.
You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know.
If the playwright knew every little thing about his play, why bother? There must be discovery all the time, otherwise why bother to do it?
Past one o’clock. You must have gone to bed. The Milky Way streams silver through the night. I’m in no hurry; with lightning telegrams I have no cause to wake or trouble you. And, as they say, the incident is closed. Love’s boat has smashed against the daily grind. Now you and I are quits. Why bother then To balance mutual sorrows, pains, and hurts. Behold what quiet settles on the world. Night wraps the sky in tribute from the stars. In hours like these, one rises to address The ages, history, and all creation.
Why bother? I was right all along: the second you make yourself vulnerable to someone, they start drawing blood.
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