Quotes About Frustration

complaining woman was like pushing dirt beneath the fingernails of God

Her work failed her. She had reached a desperate, claustrophobic stage of being imprisoned halfway in a novel: there was too much behind her for her to retreat and not a glimmer of light ahead. She sat for hours without writing, staring at the last few wrods on the page, seeing no significance in them. Her characters fell into frozen poses, speech died on their lips: they had sat at a banquet for weeks and she had not the power to bring them to their feet again.

Nearing fifty, Vinny felt more than ever the sweet disappointments only a romantic knows, whose very desires invite frustration; who loves twilight rather than midday, the echo more than the voice, the moon more than the sun, and women better than men;

Sometimes, she wanted quite furiously to hurt him; now, for instance, to lean forward and snap at him: 'Why do you dye your hair? I know you do. In this light it looks utterly horrible.

Kate was always, like most mothers, wasting words and knowing she wasted them.

apoplectic. I let them stew

May your balls rot like fruit in the sun, and your manhood wither at the root!

It was a nightmare I could never really define, to have so many people packed around me and not be able to communicate with any of them unless they felt like it.

The Rosalie really did not want to go like the clappers and performed its usual consumptive drama every time we came to an uphill slope, coughing and gasping like a dying Dickens heroine, and finally just stopped—engine still gasping a bit but the car just stopped. Simply could not move forward up the hill. Choke full out but cylinders firing pathetically as though we were trying to make the poor thing run on nothing but air.

I don't want any more of this try, try again stuff. I just want out. I've had it. I am so tired. I am twenty and I am already exhausted.

I don't want any more of this try, try again stuff. I just want out. I've had it. I am so tired. I am twenty and I am already exhausted.

Nothing ruined working with animals like the need to work with people at the same time.

You know, it's hard work to write a book. I can't tell you how many times I really get going on an idea, then my quill breaks. Or I spill ink all over my writing tunic.

You know, it's hard work to write a book. I can't tell you how many times I really get going on an idea, then my quill breaks. Or I spill ink all over my writing tunic. No wonder I drink so much! Then I get so drunk, I can barely feed the baby. That's what I call myself when I'm drunk, "The Baby.

Quick decision makers are often stuck behind annoying people in line at Starbucks.

You know, it's hard work to write a book. I can't tell you how many times I really get going on an idea, then my quill breaks. Or I spill ink all over my writing tunic.

Longing to excel, he had never even succeeded. He had been hampered by not knowing a number of things the average man took for granted; but he was hampered still more by knowing a number of other things the average man had never suspected.

The whole younger generation looks to me like a sum that doesn't add up.' Lavinia

So you try to think of someone else you're mad at, and the unavoidable answer pops into your little warped brain: everyone.

i was so confused that i did a flying roundhouse kick at the wall. my leg went through the wall

Not being the sort to throw a book, she pounded her fist on her cushion.

Mulder' she said gently. 'They don't want you involved. They don't want to hear your theories. That's why Section Chief Blevins has you hidden away down here in the basement.' Mulder didn't seem at all hurt by this. 'You're down here too,' he pointed out cheerfully. Scully slumped in her chair... Couldn't he ever take no for an answer?

i was in love with the sound of the slamming door, it sounded the way i felt, like damn you to hell! and i hate what you're doing to me! and Life sucks.

Oh, nonsense," snapped Ellery, honking his klaxon. His face convulsed as he leaned out of the car and yelled to a crowding taxicab with the righteous wrath of all motor-maniacs: "What the hell d'ye think you're doing?