Quotes About Rejection

It is an archetypal Sixties case history—the rejection of real solutions in favor of demands that are made with the knowledge they cannot be met.

Take a simple scenario: a child does not listen to a parent. • Guilt (Maybe I've done a poor job parenting.) • Disrespect (How dare he not listen to me!) • Rejection (He doesn't love me.) • Embarrassment (If others are around, what do they think of me?) • Fear (What's going to become of him? What will become of our relationship?) • Injustice (After all I've done for him.)

You make it a production. Slam doors. Knock things over. Scream. But I just leave. Even if I'm still standing there, I leave. I am refusing you. I am denying you. I am an adjective that is quickly turning into a noun.

I preferred to hang out with the dead, dying, or desperate books - used we call them, in a way that we'd never call a person, unless we meant it cruelly

Nobody ever took my picture. They didn't want to. Or I wouldn't let them. You were the only exception.

none of us can stop listening. Because what is more transfixing than the sound of people hating you? In the darkest part of our hearts, we used to think that maybe they were right. We don't think that anymore.

i would rather eat dog shit full of razor blades than have anything to do with you.

you will rip yourself to shreds to prove that I am worth loving. you will not hear the chorus of everyone I've let down

They wouldn't beat him up. They wouldn't break his ribs. He knew that. But they had other ways of breaking him - with silence, with disappointment, with disapproval.

Not getting what you want can make you cruel.

Don't give me that, Charlie

Those who in principle reject an evolutionary account of collective human violence must either deny its existence -which is surely a quixotic move- or else provide an alternative hypothesis. So far, no coherent alternative has been suggested.

Unrequited love is the foundation for fatal attraction.

your a nobody, an it

Hoped if she kept the dream hidden and frozen She soon would forget that she'd never been chosen. But dreams screams as loud whether thriving or dying And Helen despite herself never stopped trying.

But instead I am applying for a job as an elf. Even worse than applying is the very real possibility that I will not be hired, that I couldn't even find work as an elf. That's when you know you're a failure.

At twenty-two, you are built for poverty and rejection. And you know why? Because you're good-looking. You might not realize it this morning, but thirty years from now, you will pull out pictures of yourself taken on this day and think, Why did nobody tell me I was so fucking attractive? You maybe can't see it now because you're comparing yourself to the person next to you, or two rows up. But you are stunning.

I looked from face to face, exaggerating flaws and reminding myself that these boys did not like me. The hope was that I might crush any surviving atom attraction, but as has been the case for my entire life, the more someone dislikes me the more attractive he becomes.

The people I hung out with in my early twenties were middle-class and, at least to our minds, artistic. We'd all turned our backs on privilege, but comfortably, the way you can when you still have access to it.

If you think I'm putting my bra back on for this bullshit, you are so sorely mistaken.

It's as though we had asked to have ice cubes in our wine, like, Ick, who are you?

I wouldn't know it until months later, but my father had kicked me out of the house not because I was a bum but because I was gay.

A few weeks of fanfare and I'd drop show business, just like I had the guitar and my private detective agency. I hated having my life's ambition reduced to the level of a common cold. This wasn't a bug, but a full-fledged virus. It might lay low for a year or two, but this little germ would never go away. It has nothing to do with talent or initiative. Rejection couldn't weaken it, and no amount of success would ever satisfy it. Once diagnosed, the prognosis was terminal.

Your trash. You're trash. Your family's trash.