Boredom Quotes (page 4)
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The Garden En robe de parade. - Samain. Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall. She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens, And she is dying piece-mealof a sort of emotional anaemia. And round about there is a rabble. Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor. They shall inherit the earth. In her is the end of breeding. Her boredom is exquisite and excessive. She would like some one to speak to her, And is almost afraid that I ...
Ezra Pound
A Strange melancholy pervades me to which I hesitate to give the grave and beautiful name of sorrow. The idea of sorrow has always appealed to me but now I am almost ashamed of it's complete egoism. I have known boredom, regret, and occasionally remorse, but never sorrow. Today it envelops me like a silken web, enervating and soft, and sets me apart from everybody else.
Francoise Sagan
He would shoot his adversary in a duel, and go against a bear if need be, and fight off a robber in the forest--all as successfully and fearlessly as L---n, yet without any sense of enjoyment, but solely out of unpleasant necessity, listlessly, lazily, even with boredom. Anger, of course, constituted a progress over L---n, even over Lermontov. There was perhaps more anger in Nikolai Vsevolodovich than in those two together, but this anger was cold, calm, and if one may put it so,...
Fyodor Dostoevsky
On some evenings it would sadden Jacques to look at them (workers). Until then he had only known the riches and the joys of poveryy. But now heat and boredom and fatigue were showing him their curse, the curse of work so stupid you could weep and so interminably monotonous that it made the days too long and, at the same time, life too short.
Albert Camus
Evading all the boredom, all the vast chagrin / That load their heaviness upon this fog-bound life, / Happy is he who on a stalwart wing can knife / Across the haze to meadows shining and serene! Happy is he whose thoughts soar like the lark to sing, / As through the morning skies, in freedom, he ascends, / - Who, gazing down on life, completely comprehends / The language of the flowers and every speechless thing!
Charles Baudelaire