Idle Mind Quotes

Man finds nothing so intolerable as to be in a state of complete rest, without passions, without occupation, without diversion, without effort. Then he feels his nullity, loneliness, inadequacy, dependence, helplessness, emptiness.

Just as iron rusts from disuse... even so does inaction spoil the intellect.

Absence of occupation is not rest; A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.

There is nothing so insupportable to man as to be in entire repose, without passion, occupation, amusement, or application. Then it is that he feels his own nothingness, isolation, insignificance, dependent nature, powerless, emptiness. Immediately there issue from his soul ennui, sadness, chagrin, vexation, despair.

To an active mind, indolence is more painful than labor.

I feel like I'm the most creative when I'm bored.

I don't know if I can relax. Relax, I can't do. My brain, on idle, is a bad thing. I just get weird. I mean, not weird. I get, I get antsy.

The indolent mind is not empty, but full of vermin.

Alas! I do not believe that inspiration falls from heaven. think it rather the result of a profound indolence.

Idleness is the beginning of all psychology. What? Could it be that psychology is ? a vice?

Just as iron rusts from disuse, and stagnant water putrefies, or when cold turns to ice, so our intellect wastes unless it is kept in use.

Leisure without study is death, and the grave of a living man.

We owe most of our great inventions and most of the achievements of genius to idleness either enforced or voluntary.

Thinking very often resembles napping, but the intent is different. --Stephanie Plum

Laziness isn't merely a physical phenomenon, about being a couch potato, stuffing your face with fries and watching cricket all day. It's a mental thing, too, and that's the part I have never aspired for.

A thought falls like a ripe fruit from the tree of idleness.

In Maycomb, if one went for a walk with no definite purpose in mind, it was correct to believe one's mind incapable of definite purpose.

An idle head is a boxe for the winde.

A vacant mind invites dangerous inmates, as a deserted mansion tempts wandering outcasts to enter and take up their abode in its desolate apartments.

I took a fortnight off. But I'm not a great believer in breaks. I don't want to be rattling around inside my own head. I did feel I was spiralling into a Kathy Burke character and tried going out, but I prefer it here. Filming keeps me busy. It absorbs me.

Nothing is very strong: strong enough to steal away a man's best years not in sweet sins but in a dreary flickering of the mind over it knows not what and knows not why, in the gratification of curiosities so feeble that the man is only half aware of them, in drumming of fingers and kicking of heels, in whistling tunes that he does not like, or in the long, dim labyrinth of reveries that have not even lust or ambition to give them a relish, but which, once chance association has started them, the creature is took weak and fuddled to shake off.

Be careful how you suggest things to me. For there is in me a madness which goes beyond martyrdom, the madness of an utterly idle man.

True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his side to the dew-dropping south.

True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.

Idle time is the devil's play.