Quotes About Frustration

I want to hold onto this funny thing. God, it's gotten big on me. I don't know what it is. I'm so damned unhappy, I'm so mad, and I don't know why. I feel like I'm putting on weight. I feel fat. I feel like I'm saving a lot of things, and I don't know what. I might even start reading books.

Nobody listens anymore. I can't talk to the walls, because they are screaming at me. I can't talk to my wife, because she listens to the walls.

A woman's voice answered, Hello? Walter cried back at her, Hello, oh Lord, hello! This is a recording, recited the woman's voice. Miss Helen Arasumian is not home. Will you leave a message on the wire spool so she may call you when she returns? Hello? This is a recording. Miss Helen Arasumian is not home. Will you leave a message - He hung up. He sat with his mouth twitching. On second thought he redialed that number. When Miss Helen Arasumian comes home, he said, tell her to go to hell.

Then I went in and shot the televisor, that insidious beast, that Medusa, which freezes a billion people to stone every night, staring fixedly, that Siren which called and sang and promised so much and gave, after all, so little, but myself always going back, going back, hoping and waiting

It's bad to get up early, stand at your typewriter and work, then find it's nothing and take a bottle to bed.

What - the smell of kerosene? My wife always complains,' he laughed. 'You never was it off completely.

Don't see so much, Chris, your mind is too big for your body.' I got a war on between a mind that wants things my body can't give it.

I can't talk to the walls because they're yelling at me. I can't talk to my wife; she listens to the walls.

Right now I've got an awful feeling I want to smash and kill things.

Wasn't there an old joke about the wife who talked so much on the telephone that her desperate husband ran out to the nearest store and telephoned her to ask what was for dinner?

He hated all this, and somehow he couldn't get away.

You fight, work, sweat, nearly kill yourself, sometimes do kill yourself, trying to accomplish something — and you can't. Not from any fault of yours. You simply can do nothing, neither great nor little — not a thing in the world — not even marry an old maid, or get a wretched 600-ton cargo of coal to its port of destination.

You fellows know there are those voyages that seem ordered for the illustration of life, that might stand for a symbol of existence. You fight, work, sweat, nearly kill yourself, sometimes do kill yourself, trying to accomplish something — and you can't. Not from any fault of yours. You simply can do nothing, neither great nor little — not a thing in the world — not even marry an old maid, or get a wretched 600-ton cargo of coal to its port of destination.

Wir gehen mit Worten Kompromisse ein. Es hilft uns auch nicht weiter.Es ist wie ein Wald in dem niemand den Weg kennt. Man ist verloren, während man noch ruft: Ich bin gerettet.

And ye have seen desiring without fruit, Those whose desire would have been quieted, Which evermore is given them for a grief. I speak of Aristotle and of Plato

To think that I have wasted years of my life, that I have longed for death, that the greatest love that I have ever known has been for a woman who did not please me, who was not in my style! Part 4

Success and failure are both difficult to endure. Along with success come drugs, divorce, fornication, bullying, travel, meditation, medication, depression, neurosis and suicide. With failure comes failure.

Now you've given them hope, and they're unhappy. So the blame is all yours.

I frequently feel I'm being taken advantage of merely because I'm asked to do the work I'm paid to do.

He could not make them understand that...having a good time bored him and was not worth the effort.

Darling, we're going to have a baby again,' she would say to her husband. I haven't the time,' Lieutenant Scheisskopf would grumble petulantly. 'Don't you know there's a parade going on?

Why don't you ever whip me? she pouted one night. Because I haven't the time, he snapped at her impatiently. I haven't the time. Don't you know there's a parade going on?

They were four clean-cut kids who were having lots of fun, and they were driving Yossarian nuts. He could not make them understand that he was a crotchety old fogey of twenty-eight, that he belonged to another generation, another era, another world, that having a good time bored him and was not worth the effort, and that they bored him, too. He could not make them shut up; they were worse than women. They had not brains enough to be introverted and repressed.

The dead man in Yossarian's tent was a pest, and Yossarian didn't like him, even though he had never seen him. Having him laying around all day annoyed Yossarian so much that he had gone to the orderly room several times to complain to Sergeant Towser, who refused to admit that the dead man even existed, which, of course, he no longer did.