Totally Tired Quotes & Sayings

You're the one who never seems to be finished. Don't you ever get tired?"
"Not when I'm around you." He nuzzled my throat. "I'm sure that's a huge hardship for you."
I laughed as his hands wandered their way up my chest. "It totally is. I'm drained most of the time."
"I want to be drained," he growled as he thumbed my sensitive peaks through the jumpsuit. — Amanda Carlson

People have challenged me all my life, told me I wasn't fast enough, wasn't smart enough, but you know what? No one's ever outworked me. My definition of tired and most people's definition of tired are two totally different things. — Jon Runyan

She asked herself a thousand times why she had hungered so desperately to belong body and soul to Joaquin Andieta when truth she had never been totally happy in his arms, and could explain it only in terms of first love. She had been ready to fall in love when he came to the house to unload some cargo; the rest was instinct. She had merely obeyed the most powerful and ancient of calls, but it had happened an eternity ago and seven thousand miles away. Who she was then and what she had seen in him she could not say, only that now her heart was far away from there. Not only was she tired of looking for him but deep down she did not want to find him; at the same time, though, she could not go on riddled with doubt. She needed an ending for that phase in order to begin a new love with a clean slate — Isabel Allende

No, I'm done! I'm tired, I'm sweaty, I'm in agony, and why do I feel like I need to shit?"
"It's totally natural to feel that way," said Grace in a placatory, calming voice. "Some women even have one during labor."
"What?" The word dripped with horror. "Women can shit when they're in labor? Tell me that won't happen to me! Don't you let me shit, Grace! — Suzanne Wrightt

He smiled down at the baby, and kissed him on the head. "I give you my blessing, Leo. First male great-grandchild! I have a feeling you are special, like Hazel was. You are more than a regular baby, eh? You will carry on for me. You will see her someday. Tell her hello for me."
"Bisabuelo," Ezperanza said, a little more insistently.
"yes, yes." Sammy chuckled. "El viejo loco rambles on. I am tired, Ezperanza. You are right. But I'll rest soon. It's been a good life. Raise him well, nieta."
The scene faded.
Leo was standing on the deck of the Argo II, holding Hazel's hand. The sun had gone down, and the ship was lit only by bronze lanterns. Hazel's eyes were puffy from crying.
What they'd seen was too much. The whole ocean heaved under them, and now for the first time Leo felt as if they were totally adrift.
"Hello, Hazel Levesque," he said, his voice gravelly. — Rick Riordan

Well, golly gee, I'm so sorry that you had to answer an awkward question at lunch. That must have been so inconvenient. Much more inconvenient than getting hit in the face with a tampon flying out of your locker." When he grins, I totally lose it. All the frustration and hurt comes rolling out of me. I'm tired of playing the good, calm girl. I rise up on my knees, reach over and hit him across the top of his head. "Fuck," he curses. "What the hell was that for?" "That's for being an asshole!" I hit him again, — Erin Watt

Oh, do you, Milo? You're so selfish. You don't see the bigger picture." "What's the bigger picture?" "You're still here looking for handouts. Who's going to take care of me?" "I'm on my knees here, Mom. Not for me, for my family. For my wife. For a beautiful grandson you have totally ignored." "He's kind of a brat. I'll be in his life when he gets a little impulse control." "He's not even four." "I have needs. I'm tired of this child-worshipping culture. You're just a slave to it, Milo." "I'm only trying to be a decent dad." "Don't waste your time. It's not in your genes. Besides, try making some money. That might be a good dad move. For heaven's sake, the system's rigged for white men and you still can't tap in." "You're right, Mom. What can I say? But still, it would mean a lot to me if you made a little more of an effort with Bernie." "Bernie schmernie. This is my decade." "Okay, you wrinkled old spidercunt, have it your way. — Sam Lipsyte

It is this nothingness (in solitude) that I have to face in my solitude, a nothingness so dreadful that everything in me wants to run to my friends, my work, and my distractions so that I can forget my nothingness and make myself believe that I am worth something. The task is to persevere in my solitude, to stay in my cell until all my seductive visitors get tired of pounding on my door and leave me alone. The wisdom of the desert is that the confrontation with our own frightening nothingness forces us to surrender ourselves totally and unconditionally to the Lord Jesus Christ. — Henri J.M. Nouwen

I got really tired of metal music. How do you pick what's good to sell when you're not totally into what you're listening to and marketing? — Blake Judd

Anyway GONE. My goal in writing GONE To creep you out. To make you stay up all night reading then roll into school tired the next day so that you totally blow the big test and end up dropping out of school. GONE. Imagine a world where every adult vanishes in an instant. — Michael Grant

You can't be tired already," Dalanthas chided. "We have another ten miles left. Don't you go anywhere in your world?"
"In my world, we don't have to walk. We have cars to ride in."
"You mean like coaches?"
"Kind of. You put gas in, turn the car on, and drive where you want to go."
Dalanthas frowned. "Gas? Is that some kind of animal?"
Kirsta rolled her eyes. "No, it's a liquid."
Aldina joined their conversation. "Is it magic?"
Kirsta felt totally inadequate at explaining something she took for granted. "Well, no. It's a fuel. The engine burns the fuel and makes the car move."
Dalanthas shook his head. "I don't think I'd want to be in a coach that moved by itself. What if it went the wrong way?"
Kirsta giggled. "It won't! The person driving steers the car the way it's supposed to go."
Dalanthas looked at her strangely. "I think I'd rather walk. — Laura S. Kearney

I would totally, if Alan Cumming is tired of doing Cabaret, I'd be like, 'I'll do it tonight.' I would have such a good time doing that. — Billy Magnussen

God always forgives when you are totally repentant and you desire to change. He forgives ... and He never gets tired of forgiving. Never. You may get tired asking. I hope not. He never, never tires of forgiving. Never. — Mother Angelica

We have to support each other's tired nerves, I know that sounds so Pollyanna, but really ... Mommy groups can be amazing, but haven't you ever gone to one and felt like you are back in high school, totally on the outside of the 'cool kids' club? I totally have! — Marissa Jaret Winokur

As I've already mentioned, there is just one way to escape this negative spiral - by tidying efficiently all at once, as quickly as possible, to make the perfect clutter-free environment. But how does this create the right mind-set? When you tidy your space completely, you transform the scenery. The change is so profound that you feel as if you are living in a totally different world. This deeply affects your mind and inspires a strong aversion to reverting to your previously cluttered state. The key is to make the change so sudden that you experience a complete change of heart. The same impact can never be achieved if the process is gradual. To achieve a sudden change like this, you need to use the most efficient method of tidying. Otherwise, before you know it, the day will be gone and you will have made no headway. The more time it takes, the more tired you feel, — Marie Kondo

At eighteen, she already looks like a woman of sorrows and as her breaths start becoming shorter, tired of looking over her shoulder, she only wants to get away from this city where no one can fathom her love- boundless and profane and real, like her skin and her lips and the insides of her thighs. She knows she can smile, smell like the others. Her skin would bleed too if pricked and yet this reality does not belong to the ones sleeping on the platform floor; this reality is hers and her alone. Thus when she puts the mirror back, she rummages in her handbag, searching for that thing called identity: some of it lost somewhere in the railway colony she had just left behind, some in Sudhanshu's left jacket pocket, the rest of it scattered here around broken teacups on railings, totally aberrant and arbitrary. — Kunal Sen