Quotes About Frustration

For most of our lives, sex seems fated to remain steeped in longing and awkwardness. Whatever the manuals may promise, there are really no solutions to the majority of the dilemmas sex creates for us.

De door alcohol opgewekte gevechten die op zaterdagavonden in provincieplaatsen uitbreken zijn voorspelbare symptomen van onze verbolgenheid over deze vrijheidsberoving. Ze herinneren ons aan de prijs die we betalen voor onze dagelijkse onderwerping aan orde en beleid - en aan de woede die stilletjes aanzwelt achter een gezagsgetrouwe en inschikkelijke façade.

Curajul de a nu fi înfrânt de anxietate, de a nu-i r?ni pe alÈ›ii din frustrare, de-a nu se înfuria prea mult pe lume pentru r?nile vizibile pe care le provoac?, de-a nu înnebuni È™i de-a reuÈ™i cumva s? treac?, mai bine sau mai r?u, prin greut??ile c?sniciei - acesta e adev?ratul curaj, acesta e eroismul care nu poate fi comparat cu nimic.

It isn't surprising if, as adults, when we first start to form relationships, we should devotedly go off in search of someone who can give us the all-encompassing, selfless love that we may once have known in childhood. Nor would it be surprising if we were to feel frustrated and in the end extremely bitter at how difficult it seems to be to find; at how seldom people understand what we need or care to help us properly.

The man who shouts every time he loses his house keys is betraying a beautiful but rash faith in a universe in which keys never go astray.

Vân?m oameni cu care viaÈ›a e mai palpitant?, iar asta nu doar din convingerea c? ne aÈ™teapt? o existen?? mai armonioas?, ci din sentimentul inconÈ™tient c? tiparele frust?rii unui asemenea om ni se vor p?rea reconfortant mai familiare.

Most business meetings involve one party elaborately suppressing a wish to shout at the other: 'just give us the money'.

It is because we cannot scream at the forces who are really responsible that we get angry with those we are sure will best tolerate us for blaming them. We take it out on the very nicest, most sympathetic, most loyal people in the vicinity, the ones least likely to have harmed us, but the ones most likely to stick around while we pitilessly rant at them.

A single idea recurs throughout his work: that we best endure those frustrations which we have prepared ourselves for and understand and are hurt most by those we least expected and cannot fathom. Philosophy must reconcile us to the true dimensions of reality, and so spare us, if not frustration itself, then at least its panoply of pernicious accompanying emotions.

Madame Verdurin might come to understand the mechanisms by which people are excluded from social circles; she could learn to make light of her frustration, confess to it directly, even throw out a teasing remark to Swann asking him to return with a signed menu, and in the process might become so charming that an invitation to the Élysée would make its way to her after all.

He's not secretive, controlling, or withdrawn for malicious reasons; he just gives up on other people—and on his ability to persuade them of anything—with unhelpful ease.

The list of ways that others bother us is endless.

Most people who are paid to use a tool feel constrained not to complain about that tool, but it doesn't stop them from feeling frustrated and unhappy about it.

You are…you are…" The merchant tried to control himself. "You have nothing. You are nothing!

His eyes were hazel, his gray hair tousled, and he wore the look of a man who had seen too much, too soon, and been forced to deal with idiots all too often.

And when he refused to tell her he loved her after having sex, she broke all the dishes until her arms bled and the medics took her away. And he sat and blew Arabesques of smoke.

And when he refused to tell her he loved her after sex, she broke all the dishes until her arms bled and the medics took her away. And he sat and blew Arabesques of smoke.

You know what I wish? I wish all the scum of the Earth had one throat and I had my hands about it.

This city is dying of rabies. Is the best I can do to wipe random flecks of foam from its lips?

I am tired of this world, these people. I am tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives.

That's how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day.

And I'm thinking about the old man. He'll be pounding on the glass right about now... or maybe not now. Maybe in a while. But he'll be pounding and... will there be blood? I like to imagine so. Yes, I rather think there will be blood. Lots of blood. Blood in extraordinary quantities.

Why, Aza Chorn is dead. Just dead. About his monument, the ghosts parade. The zephyrs shriek and howl and tear apart the clouds, rail uselessly at death and in frustration snatch up blossoms shaped like human lips, and fling them like blood-red confetti from Olympus to those mortal pastures far below, a rain of angry kisses showering down upon those tiny, distant lives...

You have encouraged these malicious incompetents, who have made your working life life a shambles. You have accepted without question their senseless orders.