Sadness is almost never anything but a form of fatigue.
And it isn't that I'm so unhappy I don't want to live anymore. That's not what it feels like. It feels more like I'm tired and bored and the party's gone on too long and I want to go home. I feel flat and there doesn't seem to be anything to look forward to, so I'd rather call it a day.
The abstract intelligence produces a fatigue that's the worst of all fatigues. It doesn't weigh on us like bodily fatigue, nor disconcert like the fatigue of emotional experience. It's the weight of our consciousness of the world, a shortness of breath in our soul.
My capacity to feel fear has worn out, as if it's a muscle that can do no more.
There are times when I think, 'Do I have the energy to be upset?' and the answer is 'no.'
I know I can still play, but it's like I told my wife, I'm just tired mentally. I'm just tired.
Fatigue makes fools of us all. It robs us of our skills, our judgment, and blinds us to creative solutions.
To say I am not mentally tired in ways and exhausted in ways would be a lie.
Ennui and lethargy are waging a war inside me.
Give me boredom. At least I know where I'm going to eat and sleep tonight.
I am tired of tears and laughter, And men that laugh and weep Of what may come hereafter For men that sow to reap: I am weary of days and hours, Blown buds of barren flowers, Desires and dreams and powers And everything but sleep.
My heart is a garden tired with autumn.
I feel like I’m eighty years old. I’m tired of life and my mind wants to die.
We grow gray in our spirit long before we grow gray in our hair.
It is a sign of contraction of the mind when it is content, or of weariness.
