Quotes About Frustration

I remembered what Dad said once, that some people have all of life's answers worked out the day they're born and there's no use trying to teach them anything new. 'They're closed for business even though, somewhat confusingly, their doors open at eleven, Monday through Friday,' Dad said. And the trying to change what they think, the attempt to explain, the hope they'll come to see your side of things, it was exhausting, because it never made a dent and afterward you only ached unbearably.

I looked like I wasn't at a cocktail party but an airport, waiting for my life to take off. Infinitely delayed.

The trying to change what they think, the attempt to explain, the hope they'll come to see your side of things, it was exhausting because it never made a dent and afterward you only ached unbearably.

But that was how it went sometimes, the English language, when you really needed it, crumbled to clay in your mouth.

I was aware of how shoddily stitched together the words were—suddenly I was a kid in the hall standing outside my locker about to head to Math. But that was how it went sometimes, the English language, when you really needed it, crumbled to clay in your mouth. That's when all the real things were said.

I know Long Island like I know my kitchen. I understand it's there for my pleasure and enjoyment, but somehow I never manage to go there.

that was how it went sometimes, the English language, when you really needed it, crumbled to clay in your mouth. That's when all the real things were said.

What do you want me to say, sir? That I'm the vegetable that I refused to become, that I'm so disappointed in myself that I can no longee look at myself in the mirror? That I hate myself?

Et puis j'étais contrariée par tous ces actes sexuels publics. Que voulez-vous, je venais d'un pays traditionnaliste.

Do you truly hate them? Or is it more the feeling you get when you're around them that you hate?

Thus, anger can be seen as one's inability or unwillingness to use aggression to overcome a frustrating obstacle, while anxiety can be understood as an inability or unwillingness to admit hunger or desire.

If not exactly raging against the dying of the light, I was at least a little cross with it.

I've told you, I don't know!' bellowed the Doctor, angrily. 'I can't have an answer for everything.' Oh, that's a good one, thought Ace.

He'd tried celibacy. The only problem was the lack of sex.

Everything seemed suspended, in some kind of balance. Obviously someone would come along and fuck it up, because that's what other people did.

And I remember looking at the two of you and seeing you together and thinking how you were really differant with him. Much calmer. And you didn't shout at one another. And it made me so sad because it was like you didn't really need me at all. And somehow that was even worse than you and me arguing all the time because it was like I was invisible. And I think that was when I realised you and your father were probably better off if I wasn't living in the house.

We had a lot of argumants like that. Because I often thought I couldn't take any more. And your father is really pacient but I'm not, I get cross, even though I don't mean too. And by the end we stopped talking to each other very much because we knew it would always end up in an argumant and it would go nowere, And I felt realy lonley.

He was an arsehole, but, God, she looked at Richard sometimes, the racing bike, the way he did the crossword in pencil first. There were evenings when she wanted Dad to ride in off the plains, all dust and sweat and tumbleweed, kick open the saloon doors and stick some bullet holes in those fucking art books.

But you shoutet and you knocked those mixers off the shelf and there was a big crash.

School might have been shit, but at least it was simple.

It was true. There really was no limit to the ways in which you could say the wrong thing to your children. You offered an olive branch and it was the wrong olive branch at the wrong time. "Well?

His name was Peter Lake, and he said to himself out loud, "You're in bad shape when a horse takes pity on you, you stupid bastard

Marxists are people whose insides are torn up day after day because they want to rule the world and no one will even publish their letter to the editor.

Albany sometimes tried to rattle, but failed to emit an audible sound.