Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Lulling. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Lulling Quotes And Sayings by 97 Authors including John Edward Williams,Arthur Schopenhauer,Robert Don Hughes,Jeff Bridges,Paulo Coelho for you to enjoy and share.
Busying herself with inconsequential tasks.
Boredom is an evil that is not to be estimated lightly. It can come in the end to real despair. The public authority takes precautions against it everywhere, as against other universal calamities.
losing it on the world. But even if the
So I have this word for much of what I do in life: 'plorking.' I'm not playing and I'm not working, I'm plorking.
Postponing doing the really interesting things in life for later, when you don't have the energy.
Boredom is the root of all evil. It is very curious that boredom, which itself has such a calm and sedate nature, can have such a capacity to initiate motion. The effect that boredom brings about is absolutely magical, but this effect is one not of attraction but of repulsion.
Living, just by itself - what a dirge that is! Life is a classroom and Boredom's the usher, there all the time to spy on you; whatever happens, you've got to look as if you were awfully busy all the time doing something that's terribly exciting - or he'll come along and nibble your brain.
just the suffocating constancy of my own self, that numb and desperate company. -
Loaming is my special word for it..it's a combination of looming and roaming
Everyone was searching for something, conducting lively arguments, getting excited, but behind it all one felt weariness, disillusion, emptiness.
Sleep, that deplorable curtailment of the joy of life.
Not loving you - that would hurt more.
Being. Not being. Giving in. Holding out. No matter what I do, it hurts.
Sadness of not knowing enough words to [express what you mean] ...
Boredom is the deadliest poison.
Making love with his ego.
In love there is but little rest.
Idleness is sweet, and its consequences are cruel.
A lazy frost, a numbness of the mind.
wasn't going to like being
Boredom dismantles the mind, renders it superficial, out at the seams, saps it from within and dislocates it.
Feeling my own humiliation in my heart like the sharp prick of a needle.
Let my doing nothing when I have nothing to do, become untroubled in its depth of peace, like the evening in the seashore when the water is silent.
Wallowing was for elephants, depressing people and depressing elephants
Love without rest.
I'm sitting here doing nothing but ageing while my guitar gently weeps
There is no remedy for time misspent; No healing for the waste of idleness, Whose very languor is a punishment Heavier than active souls can feel or guess.
At any age we must cherish illusions, consolatory or merely pleasant; in youth, they are omnipresent; in old age we must search for them, or even invent them. But with all that, boredom is their natural and inevitable accompaniment.
Losing my mind From this hollow in my heart
The frivolous work of polished idleness.
If sleep is the apogee of physical relaxation, boredom is the apogee of mental relaxation. Boredom is the dream bird that hatches the egg of experience.
Happiness as un-pin-downable as a louse: you feel the tickle of its passage but your fingers close on nothing.
Boredom is a bit of a bore, to say the least.
Leisure: A fancy word for people who don't want to admit they're bored.
Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue but moody and dull melancholy, kinsman to grim and comfortless despair.
Gloating is a superficial glowing, floating is an idle flowing, and bloatedness is the paralysis of blowing up; because silent movement results in loud victories.
lounging around the pull
The horrible pleasure of pleasing inferior people.
It's a sin to bore people.
In a sadly pleasing strain, let the warbling lute complain.
The insupportable labor of doing nothing.
What is the use of a violent kind of delightfulness if there is no pleasure in not getting tired of it. - A substance in a cushion
When mind stuck, entertain your heart.
Only now do I understand the war against boredom, the lost cause of empty hours, of empty days and nights.
There is hardly any contact more depressing to a young ardent creature than that of a mind in which years full of knowledge seem to have issued in a blank absence of interest or sympathy.
There are moments when, faced with our lack of success, I wonder whether we are failures, proud but impotent. One thing reassures me as to our value: the boredom that afflicts us. It is the hall-mark of quality in modern men.
I think boring is a team that plays at home and can not score a goal.
What uneasiness lies in being loved.
We love repose of mind so well, that we are arrested by anything which has even the appearance of truth; and so we fall asleep on clouds.
sucking on a football.
The comfort of reclusion, the poetry of hibernation
Trapped in a trap of your own making.
comprehending little and caring less.
The misery of the moment.
The boring thing about being interesting is that you bore boring people.
People diminish me;
the longer I sit and listen to them
the more empty I feel but I don't get
the idea that they feel empty, I feel
that they enjoy the sound from their
mouths.
Boredom looms over the liveliest lessons, seeking to destroy.
Things are only boring if you are boring.
The dreadful burden of having nothing to do.
The student who secures his coveted leisure and retirement by systematically shirking any labor necessary to man obtains but an ignoble and unprofitable leisure, defrauding himself of the experience which alone can make leisure fruitful.
Trying to extricate from the long day the grain of pleasure
For nothing is more boring than being forced to play.
I hate getting bored.
Somebody's boring me. I think it's me.
What is this called, what I am doing, to myself, to my life, this wallowing, this pondering, this rolling over and over in the same places of my memory, wearing them thin, wearing them out? Why don't I ever learn? Why don't I ever do anything different?
Boredom: the desire for desires.
The foundation of all civilization is loitering.
There is no misery quite so wearing as the misery of a false position. It seems to slay the body and the soul.
Boring is a syndrome of being to simple.
Idleness, like kisses, to be sweet must be stolen.
I am boring. I am boring!
Only the boring get bored
Boredom is a concept that I don't understand.
There is a terrible emptiness in me, an indifference that hurts.
A person who finds silence and solitude boring is a person who is himself boring, empty of anything worth consideration.
Embracing the torture, as I'm assaulted by my own thoughts. Like a locust giving birth to earworms. Eeeeew!
To my thinking, it is more pitiable to bore than to be bored.
There was that same sense of being surrounded by the sleeping inhabitants of a waking world he had no interest in visiting or knowing, of dull business temporarily suspended, of futility and repetition soon to wake again.
We often boast that we are never bored; but yet we are so conceited that we do not perceive how often we bore others.
When we hold back out of laziness, that is when we tie ourselves into knots of boredom.
Boredom is the price one pays for not enjoying everything.
Not loving is but a long dying.
Pleasure, n. The least hateful form of dejection.
And what is the most terrible thing about boredom? Why do we rush to dispel it? Because it is a distraction-free state which soon enough reveals underlying unpalatable truths about existence - our insignificance, our meaningless existence, our inexorable progression to deterioration and death.
What is this sleep which holds you now?
You are lost in the dark and cannot hear me.
It is a profound boredom, profound, the profound heart of existence, the very matter I am made of.
The one unforgivable sin is to be boring
Me, feeling. What a concept.
Wandering aimlessly, broken by my thoughts,
Which slowly sharpened daggers at my heart
The true nature of sorrow is boredom.
Sitting out on your own life is the best way to make sure the rest of it's disappointing.
Pleasures seem solid in their pursuit; but are mere clouds in the enjoyment.
The most solid pleasure in this life is the empty pleasure of illusion.
Idleness is seductive.
Just relax and do nothing, it says.
Even though it was beautiful and comfortable, and even though it was the world, it was also a little bit boring.
No, wait. Maybe boring isn't the right word. What's the word I'm wanting here? Lonely. That's it. It was a little bit lonely.
Feelings, and feelings, and feelings. Let me try thinking instead.
Silence
It has a sound, a fullness.
It's heavy with sigh of tree,
and space between breaths.
It's ripe with pause between birdsong
and crash of surf.
It's golden they say.
But no one tells us it's addictive.
Without Purpose, LIVING is downgraded to Breathing a boring routine of inhaling oxygen - waiting to exhale
I'm afraid, of falling asleep again.
All around, everywhere you look, is dullness and uncertainty. Even something born of beauty soon leads to boredom and banality, commonplace, the human ritual, the tedious rhythm of life.