Quotes About Frustration

The teachers are getting screwed, blued, and tattooed by the system.

The science fair has long been a favorite educational tool in the American school system, and for a good reason: Your teachers hate you.

I'm not a tweeter or a Facebooker or a Grammer. I'm a real grump when it comes to technology. I'm like, come on, just write me a letter.

and that's why it's so hard for them when they discover that this equality they've been told about is a carrot on a stick – something that's dangled in front of their noses to keep them going, but always kept just out of reach.

There's so much I can't read because I get so exasperated. Someone starts describing the character boarding the plane and pulling the seat back. And I just want to say, Babe, I have been downtown. I have been up in a plane. Give me some credit.

Georgia couldn't see the wood from the trees any longer, particularly where Wickenham Manor was concerned. They'd been thrashing it out over the weekend, but getting nowhere. 'Why

Now they seemed to be in a contest over who could irritate her more, and she sometimes had to remind herself that teenagers had souls

But sometimes the prodigy in me became impatient. If you don't hurry up and get me out of here, I'm disappearing for good, it warned. And they you'll always be nothing.

We listened patiently to Lester, words skittering out of his mouth like cartoon dogs on fresh-waxed linoleum, frantically going nowhere.

Now they seemed to be in a contest over who could irritate her more, and she sometimes had to remind herself that teenagers had souls. Dory

Tengo la sensación de ser un pájaro enjaulado, al que han arrancado las alas violentamente, y en la más absoluta penumbra, choca contra los barrotes de su estrecha jaula, al querer volar.

I am like a winged creature who is too rarely allowed to use its wings. Ecstasies do not occur often enough.

I get furious at stairways, furious at doors, at walls, furious at everyday life which interferes with the continuity of ecstasy.

The women cannot go out except to go to church or to the bullfight, and even that is unusual. I consider it a very ugly custom, and if I couldn't go out as I wished, I would leave this country [Spain], if only because of that one custom of the inhabitants.

I had to go out and drink a little because I was going nutty writing this stuff. You can't imagine what a turmoil is in my head, how much I want to say, and how little is coming out. My head is bursting.

Rebellions of all kinds attract to their activities weaklings who rebel because they cannot master, destroy because they cannot create.

Anaïs:] Your two letters on cellophane just arrived—of the 7th. Don't even sign your name now. No mention of my name. Not a word of love. If I hadn't received your cable I would be stark crazy by now.

I'm sick of this white poverty, the vulgarity of my daily life.

The pages were all right—neither good nor bad, neither fish nor fowl. As I read them I seemed to hear the original lines from which they were abstracted, saw the wavering handwriting, and the curious childlike drawings, the mistakes, the bad spelling, the ink spots, the greasy finger-prints, the cheap paper (which is so touching in itself—the cheapest for genius always!). I rebelled

I share with Henry an anger not at the imperfection of women, but at the foulness of living itself.

But listen, I must finish Lawrence, Joyce & Proust. It's driving me nuts. I feel like a slacker. I'll spit them out alive, if necessary. I'm screwed up to a frenzy. Vino, vino . . . I wish I had the taste for it. Vino isn't strong enough. It's blood I want. Henry

I can write above the melee, as it were, but I don't like the forced effort. It doesn't ring the way I want it to. I get off-key.

I don't like veering around from one thing to another—one day the analyst, the next day the dancer, the next day the movies, and so on. I know it's sheer desperation that provokes this. And I know it's because I am ineffective that causes it. So it's no reproach. I'm responsible. But what to do? What, what, what? It drives me nuts.

and said to Djuna: I am tired. And laid a despondent, a heavy head on her breast, his heavy body on her body, and all his unfulfilled desires, his aborted moments, lay down with his like stones in his pocket, weighing him down, so that the bed creaked with the inertia of his words: I wanted to do this, I wanted to do that, I want to change the world, I want to go and fight... But it is night already, the day has fallen apart, disintegrated in his hands.