Quotes About Frustration

But in recent years, whether because of growing strength or growing frustration with the lack of progress, the Left has upped the ante. A shift in tone, rhetoric, and logic has moved identity politics away from inclusion—which had always been the Left's watchword—toward exclusion and division.

For most Americans, especially now, striving and insecurity are likely to be rewarded with more striving and insecurity; you can do everything right and still have little to show for it.

When you're in a train and it breaks down, well, there you is. But when you're in a plane and it breaks down, there you AIN'T.

Shit-damn, fuck-a-damn, fuck-a-damn-damn, some motherfucker just fucked my man, I'll fuck another fucker better than the other fucker, shit-damn, fuck-a-damn, fuck-a-damn!

Sweet baby Jesus, what do I have to do? Sing Closer to Fine a hundred times to earn the password to the lesbian clubhouse?" She

Stop throwing your football at the ceiling. I hate you." Most of the time he loved living above his sister in the

I mean, I'm not going to spare your feelings, Dad - I wanted to be his frickin' chocolate bunny today, but, really he popped a couple of jelly beans and said, 'This isn't right' and walked away. I mean, I think he was starving for chocolate bunny - but he walked away. Who does that?

That much sexual tension makes me want to hump a phone pole, and that's just not attractive in a pregnant woman.

Because right now, leaning against Kenny's counter, he was fully, painfully erect, for maybe the first time in months. He backed away and tried to think about something else - anything else. Losing his job, his mother's cat, Denise - oh, there you go. Limp as a politician's moral code.

Mr. Pantalone was rubbing the back of his neck like he was in pain. "It's like herding fish," he mumbled. "You want them to go one way, and then you're riding a mooncalf in the river.

God, "Kashmir" was a long damned song.

Set the table. The vegetables are overdone. The chicken's dry. Dinner is ruined. Let's eat.

When he came to, groggy from the painkillers and still in pain (oh the fucking injustice!),

Craw didn't just grunt - he made sounds like barnyard animals going to bed at night. The more frustrated and/or inarticulate he felt, the bigger the animal. This particular grunt sounded like a constipated cow.

How fucking hard is it to find one lousy teenager? Seriously? This town is the size of a condom machine—

man, two quarters, a twist of a knob, that kid should have fallen into our laps by now!

Walter, when the fucking trousers are dry, if you give me a fucking needle and thread, I will fucking sew the hell out of them.

And then crumpled on a muffled shriek, because he'd hit a stud in a load-bearing wall and broken three bones in his wrist and hand.

Crick found him there a half an hour later as he stared haplessly at a pile of bills.

I've labored my entire life for a better world than this. It's such a step backward.

feeling like you're a failure in the romance department because you couldn't sprout wood if you woke up as fertile soil and the other guy's dick was bamboo.

Oh, for fuck's sake. The Chevy Matiz—whose idea was it? Four doors, shaped like a shoe, and all the reliability of his grandmother's digestive tract. Whether she'd been constipated or had the runs, it was always ugly, and her mood had been to match.

Peter hit him, and that's how he quit his job.

Holy God, man, give us a break! You can't fuck all weekend! Wanna make a bet?