Quotes About Frustration

I hate it when things are unfinished.

Of course I'm angry," I say. "Two years of disappearance. Never calling and not writing back and making everything worse by not dealing. Now you're all, Ooh, I thought I'd never see you again, and holding my hand and Everyone hugs you but me and half-naked perimeter walking. It's severely suboptimal, Gat. If that's the word you want to use." His face falls. "Damn. It sounds bad when you put it that way.

They do sometimes go crazy, these people, because the world is telling them not to want the things they want. it can seem saner to give up - but then one goes insane from giving up.

Why do you hate yourself?" And before I know it, Gat is lying on the bed next to me. His cold fingers wrap around my hot ones, and his face is close to mine. He kisses me. "Because I want things I can't have," he whispers.

I hit my fist into the wall of the shower. I washed off the shame and anger in cold, cold water.

Half the time I hate myself for all the things I've done,' says Gat. 'But the thing that makes me really messed up is the contradiction: when I'm not hating myself, I feel righteous and victimized. Like the world is so unfair.' 'Why do you hate yourself?' And before I know it, Gat is lying on the bed next to me. His cold fingers wrap around me hot ones, and his face is close to mine. He kisses me. 'Because I want things I can't have,' he whispers.

And Gat did shut up, but his face contorted. He stood abruptly, picked up a rock from the sand, and threw it with all his force. He pulled off his sweatshirt and kicked off his shoes. Then he walked into the sea in his jeans. Angry.

and neither one of us begged grandad for the fucking tablecloths.

Magari potessi innalzarmi al livello di colui che avrei voluto essere! Ma non so quale forza, che si accresce con gli anni, mi tira verso il basso. Perfino per risalire alla mia superficie devo impiegare stratagemmi ai quali non posso pensare senza arrossire

È una stanza rovinata dagli uomini nel tentativo di renderla bella per le donne. Gli uomini non sanno quello che vogliamo.

Violence is a confession of terrible incompetence.

What the foul fiend is the meaning of all this?

Placing my head on my knees, I let the irrational tears fall unrestrained. I am crying over the loss of something I never had. How ridiculous. Mourning something that never was - my dashed hopes, my dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.

A nasty letter or a sarcastic one can make you righteously angry, but what can you do about a polite letter of rejection? Nothing, really, except cry.

An existence transfigured by failure.

The lot of the man who has rebelled too much is to have no energy left except for disappointment.

Life never gives us what we want at the moment that we consider appropriate. Adventures do occur, but not punctually.

But it is sometimes as difficult to lose one's temper as it is difficult at other times to keep it.

an Italian can never be ignored, least of all when he has a grievance.

I was brought up to be honest; the trouble is it gets me nowhere.

It's a room that men have spoilt through trying to make it nice for women. Men don't know that we want—" "And never will.

She strove in vain against the echoing walls of their civility.

But though she spent nearly seven lire, the gates of liberty seemed still unopened.

Life´s a damn poor show.