Jonathan Safran Foer Quotes

There are days when I am just dead on the floor, and I'm there in my makeup, and that's getting a little tiring.

I'm tired of making people sad and I'm tired of disappointing them and I'm tired of seeing them break. I have seen this too many times. He will be the last.

The depressed fall back exhausted from every undertaking.

To say I am not mentally tired in ways and exhausted in ways would be a lie.

I know I can still play, but it's like I told my wife, I'm just tired mentally. I'm just tired.

It just goes to show that what one person considers a "bad attitude" might actually just be total frustration over being pushed beyond the brink of one's mental and physical endurance.

I want to explain how exhausted I am. Even in my dreams. How I wake up tired. How I’m being drowned by some kind of black wave.

I have a theory that burnout is about resentment. And you beat it by knowing what it is you're giving up that makes you resentful.

A day of worry is more exhausting than a week of work.

Seven years without a break really takes a toll on you, and you don't even realize it. You're affected by other people, and after a while, sometimes they have love for you, and sometimes they don't.

Sentimentality is a form of fatigue.

My capacity to feel fear has worn out, as if it's a muscle that can do no more.

Honestly, the pains of humanity have been draining me.

When a person is juggling a lot of emotions in a single day, it can take a toll.

I began to realize that for two years my life had been a drawing on resources that I did not possess, that I had been mortgaging myself physically and spiritually up to the hilt.

I'm so tired I never want to wake up again. But I've figured out now that it was never them that made me feel that way. It was just me, all along.

It's my heart that is tired. A thirteen-year-old heart shouldn't feel like this.

Exhaustion was pressing upon and overpowering her. "Good-by--because I love you." He did not know; he did not understand. He would never understand. Perhaps Doctor Mandelet would have understood if she had seen him--but it was too late; the shore was far behind her, and her strength was gone. She looked into the distance, and the old terror flamed up for an instant, then sank again.

Love drains you, takes with it much of your blood sugar and water weight. You are like a house slowly losing its electricity, the fans slowing, the lights dimming and flickering; the clocks stop and go and stop.

I feel like I’m eighty years old. I’m tired of life and my mind wants to die.

Tired, but not the kind of tired that sleep fixes.

I'm just tired of everything…even of the echoes. There is nothing in my life but echoes…echoes of lost hopes and dreams and joys. They're beautiful and mocking.

I am tired of being tired and talking about how tired I am.

Life continues, and some mornings, weary of the noise, discouraged by the prospect of the interminable work to keep after, sickened also by the madness of the world that leaps at you from the newspaper, finally convinced that I will not be equal to it and that I will disappoint everyone - all I want to do is sit down and wait for evening. This is what I feel like, and sometimes I yield to it.

I am tired of hiding, tired of misspent and knotted energies, tired of the hypocrisy, and tired of acting as though I have something to hide.