Quotes About Frustration

But somehow her satisfaction never lasted very long. She always found herself changing, pushing against the limits and ruining things for everyone around her. It's not always my fault, she said softly. Things just get complicated, sometimes.

Battered by the mind noise, huddled in the back with eyes closed and fists clenched, the old Melissa had understood pep rallies about as well as a bird sucked through a jet engine comprehended aircraft design.

They couldn't see how maddening death really was, how colossally pointless in every way.

I felt trapped in a world that I couldn't mould to my own desires. Others were in sunlight; I was in darkness.

No, I want to take you out back and beat your fucking head on the floor.

If you're mad enough to have killed a dozen people you're mad enough to be a fraction impatient. Surely?

At times when I'm beside myself with exasperation at everything, and temporarily inclined to feel I'm simply better off dead, or am longing to just go away somewhere, anywhere, then if I happen to come by some lovely white paper for everyday use and a good writing brush, or white decorated paper or Michinoku paper, I'm immensely cheered, and find myself thinking I might perhaps be able to go on living for a while after all.

A young couple who love each other but who can't be together as they long to be because someone is preventing it.4

The Cul-de-Sac ( French for dead end ) ... is a situation where you work and work and work and nothing much changes

You have the freedom to change how you spend your day. You can outsource the tasks and find the guts to do emotional labor instead. You can go out on a limb and do what others aren't doing. The most frustrated marketers I know are the ones who take it as a given that because they are in industry x, they have no freedom. And so real estate brokers hustle for listings and do precisely what the other brokers do.

The worst frustration for a singer is choosing a career in making music and then not being able to make music because you're always giving interviews

I hate it here. I hate everyone here. I hate that I am so different. I love it here and I want to belong and I know that I never will.

Hell hath no fury like a woman deprived of her toiletries.

Oh, shut the fuck up, Sean snapped. I love you, man, OK? I missed you. Is that so hard to take? Does that scare you so damn bad? Kev looked away. No, he said quietly. It doesn't scare me. I missed you, too. All of you. It was a really long eighteen year. Bruno looked at all four men in turn. Seconds passed. Nothing. His disbelief grew. That was it? That was all? Oh, for the love of Christ. These guys were emotional retards, every last one of them.

Eleanor's greatest grievance was not a simpering lass with flaxen hair and smooth skin. It was Aquitaine, always Aquitaine.

what Kamele's state of mind might be at this point in her relationship with Theo's father, he found himself reluctant to imagine. As she was a woman of great good sense, it was likely that she wanted to murder him—for which he would blame her not at all.

I can't talk. I can't walk. I can't feed myself or take myself to the bathroom. Big bummer.

The difference between a life laced through with frustration and one sustained by happiness depends on whether it is motivated by self-hatred or by real love for oneself.

Equanimity's strength derives from a combination of understanding and trust. It is based on understanding that the conflict and frustration we feel when we can't control the world doesn't come from our inability to do so but rather from the fact that we are trying to control the uncontrollable.

Lately I feel that I'm living in a badly written, badly directed foreign movie that's running on late-night TV in black-and-white with lots of static and inadequate subtitles.

They make a mess," Jared told her. "Tulip foliage dies and turns an ugly yellow. Pansies aren't hardy. The bloom stalks on lavender drop their buds. Violets seed themselves." His tone of voice made it clear that seeding oneself was a perversion.

I hate my country. There are so many rich people who don't share their shit. They're like spoiled little ten-year-old bullies on the playground. They hog the monkey bars and the slide and the seesaw. And if you complain even a little bit, if you try to get just one spin on the merry-go-round, the bullies beat the shit out of you.

As for romance, Frank had dated a few women over the years but found them to be too inconsistent and illogical, so he dated a few men and found them to be even more random and frightening.

All the anger in the world has come to my house. It's there in my closet. In my refrigerator. In the water. In the sheets. It's in my clothes. Can you smell it? I can never run away from it. It's in my hair. I can feel it between my teeth. Can you taste it? I hear it all the time. All the time the anger is talking to me. It's the devil. I'm the devil. If I could I'd crawl into a hole if I knew God was in there. Where's the hole?