Quotes About Frustration

Essere fatta male nel senso vuol dire, evidentemente, non riuscire a provare piacere sotto i colpi del maschio, vuol dire torcersi di voglia strusciandosi per acquietare il desiderio, vuol dire afferrargliele mani, portarsele contro il sesso come a volte ho fatto io con Franco ignorando il suo fastidio, anche la noia di chi ha già avuto il suo orgasmo e ora vorrebbe assopirsi.

For her whole life she would sacrifice to him every quality of her own, and he wouldn't even be aware of the sacrifice, he would be surrounded by the wealth of feeling, intelligence, imagination that were hers, without knowing what to do with them, he would ruin them.

As we talked I realized she wanted many things at the same time, and that kept her in a permanent state of dissatisfaction.

A male, apart from the mad moments when you love him and he enters you, always remains outside. So afterward, when you no longer love him, it bothers you just to think that you once wanted him. He liked me, I liked him, the end.

what a terrible thing a dissatisfied mind is.

Para los hijos los padres siempre somos molestos.

And I imagined that I was in a race against time, a race in which the writer always lagged behind. While, in fact, the letters were rapidly lining up next to one another, asserting themselves, the vision fled, and writing was destined to a frustrating approximation. It was too slow to capture the brain wave.

I am in danger of going deaf, mute, and turning nihilistic thanks to the countless failures and the unpredictability of rare successes.

How can I explain to this woman—I thought—that from the age of six I've been a slave to letters and numbers, that my mood depends on the success of their combinations, that the joy of having done well is rare, unstable, that it lasts an hour, an afternoon, a night?

En un mitin en Atzcapotzalco un policía subió a hablar; dijo que él era un hombre con dignidad, se quitó el uniforme y lo pisoteó. Luego nos pidió dinero para irse a su tierra. Estaba llorando de coraje. • Julián Acevedo Maldonado, estudiante de la Facultad de Derecho de la UNAM.

Hoy no quiero ser dulce, tranquila, decente, sumisa, comprensiva, resignada, las cualidades que siempre ponderan los amigos. Tampoco quiero ser maternal; Diego no es un niño grande, Diego sólo es un hombre que no escribe porque no quiere y me ha olvidado por completo.

Anna despises two classes of people: first, those who own their own homes and have cars and families, and second, everybody else. Constantly she is on the verge of exploding. With rage. A pool of pure red. The pool is filled with speechlessness that talks away at her nonstop.

Ona se osje?a isklju?ena iz svega, jer i jest isklju?ena iz svega. Drugi idu naprijed penju?i se pritom preko nje. ?ini se da je ona jedina prepreka na putu. Šeta?i prolaze, a ona ostaje ležati poput odba?ena zamaš?ena papira koji otpuhuju naleti vjetra. Zamaš?en papir ne može daleko odletjeti; trune ondje gdje je. A proces raspadanja traje godinama, koje se bezli?no nižu.

when paula asks one of the women, what she would like, then she would like something for the whole family, for example, a car, in which then the whole family sits, and in which the mother is forever waiting to get a chance to smack the child's fingers, to be able to justify her own presence.

but at the end of class, I still felt slightly annoyed towards Ivan, the way you feel towards someone in real life after they say something mean to you in a dream. Instead of taking the stairs with him as usual, I took the elevator.

Trying to explain all the steps was boring and exhausting. I kept imagining Ivan getting bored, or not believing me, and it kept sounding like I was putting the blame on other people, like Svetlana and her mom. When I tried to put the blame on myself, it was also tedious and boring, and in the end I gave up trying to explain anything.

I thought about how wonderful it would be to walk around with him until the following morning. I really felt that way, even though he stressed me out so much, and all we ever did was mishear each other and say "What?" all the time.

Essays can be such a pain! Basically, the reader isn't on your side, so you can't leave out any of the logical steps. And sometimes when a connection is delicate, the steps take too long to spell out–it just isn't possible, by the time you get to the end of the steps, the mood is lost.

I felt dissatisfied, as if I was failing to capitalize on some advantage I had from "being" Turkish—one that would compensate for the hassle of having a name and appearance that had always required explanation. It had, I realized, been a real disappointment to get to Turkey and to discover that my name and appearance still required constant explanation

the way you feel annoyed toward someone in real life after they say something mean to you in a dream.

Sometimes, when I caught that glimmer of promise, I tried to touch myself to see if I could have an orgasm. It never quite worked. Afterward, when Mesut had gone into that weird trance, I wondered if I should get up and go to the bathroom and try to do it by myself in peace. But it always felt like more hassle than it was worth.

Of course, you couldn't have a party without alcohol; I understood this now. I understood the reason. The reason was that people were intolerable.

I can't find my car keys in the morning. Trying to get out of my house is a nightmare. 'Where's my wallet? Where are my keys? I have to go find a missing person.'

You speak so many bloody languages, and you never want to talk.