Quotes About Resentment

Each member of this shadowy network resented the others, who were irritating reminders that nothing was more American, whatever that means, than fleeing the American, whatever that is, and that their soft version of self-imposed exile was just another of late empire's packaged tours.

It is hard to say which reflected better on Hillgarth: the admiration of Fleming and Churchill or Philby's animosity.

Everybody feels he has a right to a life of luxury -- or at least comfort -- so there's a lot of frustration and resentment when the dream craps out.

And then they say one is misanthropical. Hang it! who can help being misanthropical when he finds everybody getting on in life except himself?

If you're holding a grudge against somebody over the battle you just went through, you might be working with them on the next bill.

I am growing meaner by the hour.

Worse, I convinced myself our tragedy was entirely her making. I spent years working myself into the very thing I swore she was: a righteous ball of hate.

My parents are worried, of course, but how can I feel sorry for them, since they made me this way and then deserted me?

A town so small, you tripped over people you hated every day.

I suppose it's not a compromise if only one of you considers it such, but that was what our compromises tended to look like. One of us was always angry.

I remember at one point starting a goofy story about a childhood field trip here, and I saw her eyes go blank, and I got secretly furious, spent ten minutes just winding myself up – because at this point of our marriage, I was so used to being angry with her, it felt almost enjoyable, like gnawing on a cuticle: You know you should stop, that it doesn't really feel as good as you think, but you can't quit grinding away.

I was never really on my side in any argument. I liked the Old Testament spitefulness of the phrase got what she deserved.

He took away chunks of me with blasé swipes: my independence, my pride, my esteem. I gave, and he took and took. He Giving Treed me out of existence. That whore, he picked that little whore over me. He killed my soul, which should be a crime.

It's probably why I was so hateful to her, she kept me from what I wanted the most.

He never beat her, but his pure, inarticulate fury would fill the house for days, weeks, at a time, making the air humid, hard to breathe, my father stalking around with his lower jaw jutting out, giving him the look of a wounded, vengeful boxer, grinding his teeth so loud you could hear it across the room.

I got secretly furious, spent ten minutes just winding myself up—because at this point of our marriage, I was so used to being angry with her, it felt almost enjoyable, like gnawing on a cuticle: You know you should stop, that it doesn't really feel as good as you think, but you can't quit grinding away.

He took away chunks of me with blasé swipes: my independence, my pride, my esteem. I gave, and he took and took. He Giving Treed me out of existence. That whore, he picked that little whore over me. He killed my soul, which should be a crime. Actually, it is a crime. According to me, at least.

because at this point of our marriage, I was so used to being angry with her, it felt almost enjoyable, like gnawing on a cuticle: You know you should stop, that it doesn't really feel as good as you think, but you can't quit grinding away.

Right, Annabelle," Jackie said. "I'm sure if Joya were alive today, they'd have a grand old time. At least Joya would. She'd just love to tear at Camille. Remember those long, long nails of hers? Never painted them. I always thought that was weird.

Aren't the trunks stupid?" she whispered. "He says it gives the place a little authenticity. He didn't like the renovation." So the house had been a compromise: The husband wanted vintage, Susan wanted new, so they thought this outside/inside split might settle things. But the Burkes ended up more resentful than satisfied. Millions of dollars later, and neither of them were happy. Money is wasted on the rich.

Good Lord, I hated her, but you had to admire the bitch.

I feel my father's rage rise up in me in the ugliest way.

I know I'm a hateful creature.

estaba tan acostumbrado a estar enfadado con ella que casi me parecía algo disfrutable, como mordisquear un padrastro: sabes que deberías parar, que tan poco es tan agradable como te parece, pero no puedes dejar de hacerlo.