Quotes About Discontent

How could men live with women? What did it mean? What I wanted was a cave in Colorado with three-years' worth of foodstuffs and drink. I'd wipe my ass with sand. Anything, anything to stop drowning in this dull, trivial and cowardly existence.

I was glad I wasn't in love, that I wasn't happy with the world. I like being at odds with everything. People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective.

That way I wouldn't have to see the guys in their walking shorts. They looked as if nothing had ever touched them—all well-mothered, protected, with a soft sheen of contentment. None of them had ever been in jail, or worked hard with their hands, or even gotten a traffic ticket. Skimmed-milk jollies, the whole bunch.

L'umanità mi sta sul cazzo da sempre - ecco il mio motto.

I was glad I wasn't in love, that I wasn't happy with the world. I like being at odds with everything.

It wasn't ENOUGH that I was working beside him like an idiot; it wasn't enough for him that I was wasting the few good hours left in my life—no, he also wanted me to share his own mind-soul, to sniff his dirty stockings, to chew on his angers and hates with him. I was not PAID for that, the fucker. And that's what killed you on the job—not the actual physical work but being closed in with the dead. I

It felt good not to be part of that sort of thing. I was glad I wasn't in love, that I wasn't happy with the world. I like being at odds with everything. People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective.

I am watching a girl dressed in a light green sweater, blue shorts, long black stockings; there is a necklace of some sort but her breasts are small, poor thing, and she watches her nails as her dirty white dog sniffs the grass in erratic circles; a pigeon is there too, circling, half dead with a tick of a brain and I am upstairs in my underwear, 3 day beard, pouring a beer and waiting for something literary or symphonic to happen;

we have everything and we have nothing. some do it well enough for a while and then give way. fame gets them or disgust or age or lack of proper diet or ink across the eyes or children in college or new cars or broken backs while skiing in Switzerland or new politics or new wives or just natural change and decay—

Mi sembra di essere nato storto. Non capisco se non trovo più quello che voglio o se rendo le mie voglie talmente elaborate da rendermi impossibile soddisfarle. Insomma, una specie di alibi del cazzo.

Avrei potuto anche accontentarmi, ma è così che si diventa infelici.

But somehow, I've got to get out, and make sure that almost all humanity is still a large piece of crap.

It felt good not to be part of that sort of thing. I was glad I wasn't in love, that I wasn't happy with the world. I like being at odds with everything. People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective. They lose their sense of humor. They become nervous, psychotic bores. They even become killers.

I made practice runs down to skid row to get ready for my future. I didn't like what I saw down there.

No entendía la televisión. Me resultaba estúpido pagar para ir a ver una película o al teatro y sentarme junto a otra gente para compartir sus emociones. Las fiestas me ponían enfermo. Odiaba la comedieta, el juego sucio, el flirteo, los borrachos aficionados, los coñazos.

It took a lot to excite me. I didn't care. I didn't like New York. I didn't like Hollywood. I didn't like rock music. I didn't like anything. Maybe I was afraid. That was it— I was afraid. I wanted to sit alone in a room with the shades down. I feasted upon that. I was a crank I was a lunatic.

No era mi día. Ni mi semana, ni mi mes, ni mi año. Ni mi vida. ¡Maldita sea!

Both choices led to social unrest: the Jacquerie (France, 1358), the Revolt of Ciompi (Florence, 1378), the Peasants' Revolt (England, 1381), the Catalonian Rebellion (Spain, 1395), and dozens of flare-ups in the German states.

the essayist Montaigne had noted... Indians who visited France... noticed among us some men gorged to the full with things of every sort while their other halves were beggars at their doors, emaciated with hunger and poverty. They found it strange that these poverty-stricken halves should suffer [that is, tolerate] such injustice, and that they did not take the others by the throat or set fire to their houses.

Discontent, then, arises from absurd notions of equality, from natural conditions of inequality, from false notions of education, and from the very patent fact, in this age, that men have been educated into wants much more rapidly than social conditions have been adjusted, or perhaps ever can be adjusted, to satisfy those wants. Beyond all the actual hardship and suffering, there is an immense mental discontent which has to be reckoned with.

For to be discontented with the divine discontent, and to be ashamed with the noble shame, is the very germ and first upgrowth of all virtue.

For whom is it well, for whom is it well. There is no one for whom it is well.

The fact that alienated people can be counted on to vent their spleen in ineffectual directions—by fighting among themselves—relieves the government of the need to deal fundamentally with the conditions which cause their frustrations

I don't like any of the Geto Boys albums at all. Not one. There isn't a Geto Boys album that I like. I didn't learn anything from it, and it was a bad time in life for me too. With the label, with life, whatever... it's a point in my life where I was the most miserable.