Quotes About Disappointment

Something inside me clenched. So often, people let you down; so often, situations turn out disappointingly. But occasionally someone recognizes, acknowledges, your private and truest self.

I knew all this, I understood the rules, but still, nothing broke my heart like the slow death of a shared joke that had once seemed genuinely funny.

So often, people let you down; so often, situations turn out disappointingly. But occasionally someone recognizes, acknowledges, your private and truest self.

Liz felt the loneliness of having confided something true to a person who didn't care.

If Dad can't come and see me then why can't I go and see him?" he asked. What could I say? "I think he's very busy getting settled in America. I'm sure he'll be in touch soon." But as time passed with no word Julian drew his own conclusions. "Dad's always telling people to love each other," he said to me one day, "but how come he doesn't love me?

If I was sure, I'd say. For your Momma, maybe. For all of us, maybe, but I don't think so. I think, maybe, it's reaching out for that school. Somehow. I'm not saying that's what you thought you were doing or what you even wanted to do. But it's how it turned out. And I'm sorry, the way it turned out. Because somebody's slapped your hand back good and hard. But I don't want you to stop reaching, just because it didn't come out the way it should have.

Another coupon tacked onto the pile I'll redeem when I get some power in my fucken life. Look around this life and all you see is folks' coupons tacked everywhere, what they'll do if, what they'll do when. Warm anticipation for shit that ain't even going to happen.

The human consistency and dignity one has been led to expect from one's fellow-men seem actually nonexistent

You know, love isn't the twin-soul business. With you, for instance, women are like apples on a tree. You can have one that you can reach. Those that look best are overhead, but it's no good bothering with them. So you stretch up, perhaps you pull down a bough and just get your fingers round a good one. Then it swings back and you feel wild and you say your heart's broken. But there are plenty of apples as good for you no higher than your chest.

She had the ash of disillusion gritting under her teeth. Would the next move turn out the same? Always the shining doorway ahead; and then, upon approach, always the shining doorway was a gate into another ugly yard, dirty and active and dead. Always the crest of the hill gleaming ahead under heaven: and then, from the top of the hill only another sordid valley full of amorphous, squalid activity.

She saw the sunshine going out of him, and she resented it.

He rather hated hope. `Une immense espérance a traversé la terre', he read somewhere, and his comment was:`---and it's darned-well drowned everything worth having.

Clifford'u öpmeden ayr?l?yordu. Clifford ona keskin soÄŸuk gözlerle bakt?. Demek öyle! bütün bir akÅŸam?n? ona kitap okumakla geçirmiÅŸti. Gene de öpmeden gidiyordu. Ne kat? yürekli kad?nda! Bir öpücük kal?plaÅŸm?? bir davran??t? belki ama böyle kal?plaÅŸm?? davran??lara dayand? yaÅŸam.

Hope had become almost a curse to her. She wished there need be no such thing. Ha, the torment of hoping, and the insult to one's soul.

It is natural for people to forget to be grateful; so, if we go around expecting gratitude, we are headed straight for a lot of heartaches.

Here is the first point I am trying to make in this chapter: It is natural for people to forget to be grateful; so, if we go around expecting gratitude, we are headed straight for a lot of heartaches.

The Nation has not yet found peace from its sins; the freedman has not yet found in freedom his promised land. Whatever of good may have come in these years of change, the shadow of a deep disappointment rests upon the Negro people,—a disappointment all the more bitter because the unattained ideal was unbounded save by the simple ignorance of a lowly people.

School is disappointing. If science is exciting and art is exhilarating, the schools and universities have achieved the not inconsiderable feat of rendering both dull. As every scientist and poet knows, one discovers both vocations in spite of, not because of school. It takes years to recover from the stupor of being taught Shakespeare in English Lit and Wheatstone's bridge in Physics.

I'd expected her house to have a phosphorescent, lava-light atmosphere, but she had mother-of-pearl Formica and café curtains with pom-poms. A little girl with rashy cheeks and big eyebrows like Nadine's sat in a playpen by the stove, chewing on an empty Saltines box.

The expressions of those moving about a picture gallery show ill-concealed disappointment that they only find pictures there.

But when a boy was born—on February 24, 1955—the designated couple decided that they wanted a girl and backed out.

Jobs's overwrought reaction was understandable. Sculley had once been a father figure to him. So had Mike Markkula. So had Arthur Rock. That week all three had abandoned him.

Einstein would not, as it turned out, ever win a Nobel for his work on relativity and gravitation, nor for anything other than the photoelectric effect.

But what truly devastated Jobs was that he was not, after all, chosen as the Man of the Year.