Quotes About Disappointment

Hope is tomorrow's veneer over today's disappointment.

My dad was disappointed in me because I was obese, and he was a sports guy. As a result, I spent a lot of time in that basement. I could go down there and escape and be whatever I wanted to be. I had a huge fantasy life. It always involved vengeance.

If you read the history of the national Socialist party, they're all people who felt like life should have been better to them. They're disappointed, vengeful, angry.

When you say 'failure,' that seems really dramatic, but a lot of failure is just really depressing and mundane. I remember the first time I ever played a concert in Italy. I played a venue that held 900 people, and I think five people showed up. It wasn't a big, 'John Carter of Mars' type failure. It wasn't dramatic; it was just depressing.

I think we are all slightly down in the dumps after another loss. We may be in the wrong sign... Venus may be in the wrong juxtaposition with somewhere else.

It is always a disappointment to turn from forthright consideration of some subject - whether from the Left or the Right, a poet or a plumber - to the Beltway version, in which the only aspects of the issue that matter are the effects it will have on the fortunes of the two parties and the various men in power.

Mi sento pieno di malanimo vero questo piccolo presuntuoso così bugiardo; può darsi che sia dispetto: ero felice che mentisse agli altri ma avrei voluto che facesse un'eccezione per me: credevo che ci saremmo messi d'accordo come ladri in fiera sopra la testa di tutti questi morti e che avrebbe finito per dirla, a me, la verità!

My memories are like the coins in the devil's purse: when it was opened, nothing was found in it but dead leaves.

Shall I awake in a few months, a few years, exhausted, disappointed, in the midst of fresh ruins? I should like to understand myself properly before it is too late.

A man is involved in life, leaves his impress on it, and outside of that there is nothing. To be sure, this may seem a harsh thought to someone whose life hasn't been a success. But, on the other hand, it prompts people to understand that reality alone is what counts, that dreams, expectations, and hopes warrant no more than to define a man as a disappointed dream, as miscarried hopes, as vain expectations. In other words, to define him negatively and not positively.

This was just no fun. I wanted my brain back.

I poked at the white paper bag. There was nothing left inside. Just like me: a clean crisp outside and nothing at all on the inside.

Well, then, I think we can look forward to a very good harvest this year," I said, but neither one of them appeared to think that was worth even a tiny smile. Ah well, you do what you can to bring a little cheer into this dreary world, and if people refuse to respond to your efforts it's their loss.

I finally gave up and blotted my shirt dry the best I could. I left the restroom wearing my semi-wet stained shirt and headed for the lab, hoping I might get some sartorial sympathy from Vince Masuoka.

Blah. It was as stupid as it was embarrassing and enervating.

I had finally managed to move the game back to my table, where I knew the rules and the odds, and I had stupidly allowed myself to see just one tiny glimmer of light at the end of the long dark tunnel. And then with a terrible self-satisfied smirk, Life had come breezing in and blown out all the candles again.

any child could have told me that when you are enjoying yourself within sight of a grown-up it is only a matter of time before the fun ends. And

I heard myself sigh heavily, and I wondered if this was really how it all ended; framed by a brainless thug, shunned by my colleagues, stalked by a whining computer nerd who couldn't even make it in minor-league baseball. It was well beyond ignoble, and very sad—I'd shown such tremendous early progress, too. The

You put a certain amount of effort into stitching a jacket or dress and you get the garment you expect. There's no mystery. But you put a thousand times more effort into raising your child and the result is the opposite of what you hope and dream for. This seemed so unfair.

As I'd listened in on the conversation, I'd noted what seemed to be disappointment in Loving's voice. I wondered if that was due to his reluctance to cease playing this game with me personally. But that was perhaps projecting my feelings onto him. I

Granpa just groaned and said, "I don't want you to end up workin' in the East End, young 'un. You're far too good to be a barrow boy for the rest of your life." It made me sad to hear him speak like that; he didn't seem to understand that was all I wanted to do.

The world, a tired performer, offers us another half-assed season.

Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling. I'd like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions. Germanic traincar constructions like, say, the happiness that attends disaster. Or: the disappointment of sleeping with one's fantasy. I'd like to show how intimations of mortality brought on by aging family members connects with the hatred of mirrors that begins in middle age.

When it comes to love, there are a million theories to explain it. But when it comes to love stories, things are simpler. A love story can never be about full posession. The happy marriage, the requited love, the desire that never dims-- these are lucky eventualities but they aren't love stories. Love stories depend on disappointment, on unequal births and feuding families, on matrimonial boredom and at least one cold heart. Love stories, nearly without exception, give love a bad name.