Tired Quotes (13 quotes)
’Tis a pity learned virgins ever wed
With persons of no sort of education,
Or gentlemen, who, though well born and bred,
Grow tired of scientific conversation.
With persons of no sort of education,
Or gentlemen, who, though well born and bred,
Grow tired of scientific conversation.
[Answering question whether he was tired of life:] Tired! Not so long as there is an undescribed intestinal worm, or the riddle of a fossil bone, or a rhizopod new to me.
Related about Joseph Leidy by Dr. Weir Mitchell, as stated in Richard A. Gregory, Discovery: Or, The Spirit and Service of Science (1916), 17.
A conclusion is the place where you got tired thinking.
In Charlie Walker, My Few Wise Words of Wisdom (200), 151.
He never got drunk, he never got tired, and he never perspired.
[Harvard chemistry students’ axioms.]
[Harvard chemistry students’ axioms.]
As attributed in John D. Roberts, The Right Place at the Right Time (1990), 52.
I am tired of all this thing called science here. … We have spent millions in that sort of thing for the last few years, and it is time it should be stopped.
Seeking to deny any government funding to the Smithsonian Institution. Speaking to the 36th Congress Senate (26 Jan 1860), from Congressional Proceedings reprinted in The Smithsonian Institution: Documents Relative to Its Origin and History (1879), 671.
I was in continual agony; I have never in my life been so tired as on the summit of Everest that day. I just sat and sat there, oblivious to everything … I knew I was physically at the end of my tether.
In All 14 Eight-Thousanders (1999), 77.
My hobby is my work. I have the best of both worlds because I love what I do. Do I ever get tired of it? Not so far.
Quoted in Johns Hopkins University News Release (9 Jan 2003) on jh.edu web site.
My thoughts … are like persons met upon a journey; I think them very agreeable at first but soon find, as a rule, that I am tired of them.
Samuel Butler, Henry Festing Jones (ed.), The Note-Books of Samuel Butler (1917), 216.
New ideas seem like frightening ghosts to people at the beginning; they run away from them for a long time, but they get tired of it in the end!
From the play Galileo Galilei (2001) .
Sometimes I doubt whether there is divine justice; all parts of the human body get tired eventually—except the tongue. And I feel this is unjust.
The swelling and towering omnibuses, the huge trucks and wagons and carriages, the impetuous hansoms and the more sobered four-wheelers, the pony-carts, donkey-carts, hand-carts, and bicycles which fearlessly find their way amidst the turmoil, with foot-passengers winding in and out, and covering the sidewalks with their multitude, give the effect of a single monstrous organism, which writhes swiftly along the channel where it had run in the figure of a flood till you were tired of that metaphor. You are now a molecule of that vast organism.
Describing streets in London, from 'London Films', Harper’s Magazine (), 110, No. 655, 72.
We had various kinds of tape-recorded concerts and popular music. But by the end of the flight what we listened to most was Russian folk songs. We also had recordings of nature sounds: thunder, rain, the singing of birds. We switched them on most frequently of all, and we never grew tired of them. It was as if they returned us to Earth.
…...
When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
In Leaves of Grass (1881, 1882), 214.