Best 298 quotes in «indifference quotes» category

from “The Unquarried Blue of Those Depths Is All But Blinding,” There are some things we just don’t talk about— Not even in the morning, when we’re waking, When your calloused fingers tentatively walk The slope of my waist: How love’s a rust-worn boat, Abandoned at the dock—and who could doubt Waves lick their teeth, eyeing its hull? We’re taking Our wreckage as a promise, so we don’t talk. We wet the tired oars, tide drawing us out.

God is so cruel," she murmured reflectively, as though answering him. "Yes," he admitted, from the vantage point of going blind. "Though maybe people are kinder if He made them that way." "You've run with a different crowd. Rich people are nicer to rich people." "Sure. Yes. That's why I've washed up here. Rich people couldn't have been nicer to me.

He has always been politely indifferent. But what's the Chinese word that means indifferent because you can't see any differences?

Hate is a strong emotion. Much more stronger than indifference. But those who burn with hate can also love just as intensely.

Having, then, once introduced an element of inconsistency into his system, he was far too consistent not to be inconsistent consistently, and he lapsed ere long into an amiable indifferentism which to outward appearance differed but little from the indifferentism …

He felt nothing for them now, nothing but the merciless zero of indifference, not even the regret of a loss.

He's going on and on, and I can't be bothered. I just can't be fuckin well arsed saying something like: Solaris shites all over 2001, and then listening to him arguing vehemently against it. Or, alternatively, waiting for him to say it, and then being expected to argue engingly, as if to agree, even if we do, is a sign that we're effete proofs. I can't be bothered with it and I can't even be bothered to tell him that I can'be be bothered.

He sat by the fast water, enjoying its speed, its splendid indifference, and its rippling sound, silently observing and wading birds with their shrill curl of beak and voice. He drank deeply of life so that he knew the taste of it here, knew the vibrant wealth of its dominion, knew exactly what he was taking from the man who would die on this ground.

He was nothing but a conduit, after all, and there isn't a culvert in the world that remembers the water flowed through it once the rain has stopped.

I could try to care, but I ain't sure it's worth the bother.

his unwavering confidence - but now, it feels like a brand of indifference

However, I must admit that keeping myself to myself has not always been comforting. At times, I seemed to suffer spells of depression and loneliness, longing to become healthy again; of going out and facing a world of injustices, of misery, of widespread indifference.

If I care about my own life, what do I care if the universe cares or not?

I don't worry about what other people think of me. It's one of the things I most admired about my dad growing up. He didn't give a hoot what others thought. He was who he was. It's one of the qualities that has kept me most sane.

If anyone thinks he has faith and yet is indifferent towards this possession, is neither cold nor hot, he can be certain that he does not have faith. If anyone thinks he is Christian and yet is indifferent towards his being a Christian, then he really is not one at all. What would we think of a man who affirmed that he was in love and also that it was a matter of indifference to him?

If I hate a person, then I must still love him as well.. For the insignificant ones, I don't hate.. I just lose interest and become indifferent..

If you'd called me an ox, I'd have said I was an ox; if you'd called me a horse, I'd have said I was a horse. If the reality is there and you refuse to accept the name men give it, you'll only lay yourself open to double harassment.

If we only see things through the cold-eyed lens of factuality and don’t listen to the yearning and screaming of unexpressed feelings, life may remain bleak in a mire of clinical hollowness, sodden in apathy and indifference. ("Morning after")

If you are not interested in your own country’s problems, than what difference remains between you and a cow eating grass in a quiet corner unaware of anything around itself!

Incredulity and indifference were her only reaction: incredulity, because she could not conceive of what would bring human beings to such a state —indifference, because she could not regard those who reached it, as human any longer.

I'll spare you the rest of our conversations. I'm very calm and take no notice of all the fuss. I've reached the point where I hardly ccare whether I live or die. The world will keep on turning without me, and I can't do anything to change events anyway. I'll just let matters take their course and concentrate on studying and hope that everything will be all right in the end.

I’m a threat to anything that hurts Wonderland, including indifference.

In a sentiment of remarkable prescience in the context of climate change denial half a century later, Carson articulated the formidable task before her: It is a great problem to know how to look at unpleasant facts that might have to be dealt with if one recognized their existence.

Indifference destroys vocation unlike any other intangible force, for the reason that it shakes the very core of our motivation for doing what we do.

Indifference to ideas is a sign of good health.

Indifference and greed has taken control of our lives. If a decision or mandate doesn't affect us we do not care, we do not think of the many who will suffer the consequences... Many will soon be without healthcare coverage and the healthy people do not care. The government says it will be replace with DGS... and it is true... Death Got Served.

Indifference is a pose. Underneath, a heart is beating.

Indifference is the greatest aphrodisiac.

Indifference is the worst kind of response when love is expressed. Hate is not the antithesis of love; it’s the nonexistence of feeling, a pervasive apathy. When hate is present, so is love. It’s passion gone sour and fueled by pain, but, nonetheless, it’s passion and love is apparently still alive. Yet when indifference seeps into our spirits, an emotional numbness and permitted scotoma takes the place of any passion – whether it’s love or hate – and resigns in a new state of being.

I need to learn to stay away from those who want to steal my heart and replace it with steel.

I hate feeling hate but feeling nothing feels worse.

Indifferentism is the worst kind of disease that can affect people.

Indifference is a well that never runs dry, and as good a word for evil as was ever composed.

In my day, husbands and wives showed each other a suitable level of indifference.

It is now certain that the public does know. It is not so certain that the public does care.

I sensed a mutual indifference behind polite smiles and had the overwhelming impression that, more and more frequently, I was watching people who didn't really know why they were living.

In the blank wall of the world’s indifference there had appeared a tiny snakelike fissure

Irony is that indifference is the most easily learned attitude.

Isn't forgiveness a holy virtue? And if so, then why do we insist on keeping historical records of resentment? Is the Creator an advocate of love or hate? And if love, then why are we still pushing so much hatred? What is there ever to be gained from vocalizing hatred? Only more hatred. Who wants that? And why?

It’s a strange feeling when you realise that you have become a passive bystander, watching the quirks of your own fate with an icy indifference.

It's a dangerous game Cherrycoke's playing here. Often he thinks the sheer volume of information pouring in through his fingers will saturate, burn him out...she seems determined to overwhelm him with her history and its pain, and the edge of it, always fresh from the stone, cutting at his hopes, at all their hopes. He does respect her: he knows that very little of this is female theatricals, really. She has turned her face, more than once, to the Outer Radiance and simply seen nothing there. And so each time has taken a little more of the Zero into herself. It comes down to courage, at worst an amount of self-deluding that's vanishingly small: he has to admire it, even if he can't accept her glassy wastes, her appeals to a day not of wrath but of final indifference...

It's not unreal to me yet, though it might get that way soon. It still feels very real. And not even horrible -- the dead are just the dead. I am convinced that the living people they once were would have been proud of their protective bodies hoodwinking their murderers to save someone else. [..] But it's not civilized. There is something indecent about it -- really foully indecent. The civilized Rose-person in me, who still seems to exist beneath the layers of filth, knows this. [..] I have become so indifferent about the dead.

It's indifference that breaks hearts, not love.

It's so diffuse being alive. Suddenly one is aware that nobody really gives a damn.

It was fortunate that I had not already yielded to the temptation to break with Albertine; the tedium of having to rejoin her presently, when I went home, was a trifling matter compared with the anxiety that I should have felt if the separation had occurred when I still had a doubt about her and before I had had time to grow indifferent to her.

I’ve pressed so far away from my desire that if you asked me what I want I would, accepting the harmonious completion of the drift, say annihilation, probably.

It was not only Odette's indifference, however, that he must take pains to circumvent; it was also, not infrequently, his own; feeling that, since Odette had had every facility for seeing him, she seemed no longer to have very much to say to him when they did meet, he was afraid lest the manner - at once trivial, monotonous, and seemingly unalterable - which she now adopted when they were together should ultimately destroy in him that romantic hope, that a day might come when she would make avowal of her passion, by which hope alone he had become and would remain her lover.

Love cannot be indifferent to the needs of suffering and afflicted people

I was relieved to find her attitude to myself suggested nothing more hostile than complete indifference.

Look,” said Roark evenly, and pointed at the window. “Can you see the campus and the town? Do you see how many men are walking and living down there? Well, I don’t give a damn what any or all of them think about architecture—or about anything else, for that matter. Why should I consider what their grandfathers thought of it?