Quotes About Frustration

I am 5'6' and desperately wish I was taller.

The worst part about being so small is that I always have to rely on someone. I can't go anywhere on my own, so I'm always dependent. I can't run or walk too fast. If I was taller for a day, I'd just go off on my own independently.

I'd like to be two inches taller, but it just ain't happening.

All these things make his present-day readers wish to tear their hair – or his – out of desperation" (James 1977, p. 44). "The only thing that is certain is that whatever you may say of [Hegel's] procedure, someone will accuse you of misunderstanding it.

If fucking up is power, I should be the Hulk by now.

I've come a long way to get nowhere at all, I thought. And I've spent everything I have to get here.

The clerk is looking at me. His expression hasn't changed. What I want to do is punch a hole in the front of the desk, reach through, grab his balls, and make him sing The Mickey Mouse Club song. But these days, I'm working on the theory that killing everyone I don't like might be counterproductive. I'm learning to use my indoor voice like a big boy, so I smile back at the clerk.

I don't want to run for anything. I want to shove this miserable cheap-ass check so far up Wells's ass he can read the routing number out the back of his eyes.

Abandon all hope ye who piss me off.

Oh Christ. Put me back with the zombies, Strawberry Shortcake." [p. 411]

I've got plenty on my plate. Till then, Ishii can piss his sorrows in a teapot and brew himself a hot cup of fuck off.

Fuck this place and fuck your games. This is where you first failed us. You gave us minds and told us not to think. You gave us curiosity and put a booby-trapped tree right in front of us. You gave us sex and told us not to do it. You played three-card monte with our souls from day one, and when we couldn't find the queen, you sent us to Hell to be tortured for eternity. That was your great plan for humanity? Whatever

I got my ass kicked by some third-rate spooks and now my nice kitchen looks like a drunk brontosaurus tried to fuck the dishwasher.

Whoever said Hell is other people was wrong. Hell is other people in your house .

Perfect. Another B-movie dream sequence to start the day. Why can't I ever win in these things? Instead, it's always some Jacob's Ladder outtake, and I want to talk to the director because the script needs a rewrite.

I sit there on the bed feeling foolish and angry and completely confused by the world. After the craziness last night, I thought that today I might get a day off from the shitstorm. But, if anything, the situation is even worse.

Shit," Jonny mumbled as he stepped on something soft and clinging in the doorway of the abandoned hotel. Then "Shit" again as he recognized the accuracy of his curse.

Count to sixty and start again, trying to time the drive. It's well over an hour. In most towns that would mean we're halfway to Argentina, but in L.A. it means we could be circling the block looking for parking.

For a second, nothing happens and I'm sure that I've reached a new level of fucked. Then the hardpack around the rib shatters and I haul it out of the ground like a deranged Fred Flintstone.

Horned Toad's pal, the baby face in the jeep, is running at me, firing the rifle. I guess he's upset because he hasn't grasped the fact that it's really hard to hit anything when you're running and your gun is bouncing around like a rubber duck in a typhoon.

Geryon looks at me like I'm a moldy ham sandwich someone forgot in the back of the fridge at work.

Gentry's neighbor is still blasting the same teeth-grating country pop he was playing last time I was here. When the frowning dumbass sticks his head into the hall to complain about the noise I stick the Colt in his face. "Play Taylor Swift one more time, motherfucker." He turtles his head back into his apartment and the music stops.

I consider going to Bamboo House and drinking myself horizontal, but that's what I always do, and where has it gotten me? Pretty much where I am now—standing in a hallway talking to myself about things and people I don't understand anymore.

Instead they're crying like a school bus full of little French girls whose ice cream all melted.