Quotes About Frustration

Feel like the recluse who comes out into the world with a life-saving gospel to find everybody has learned a new language in the meantime and can't understand a word he's saying.

I get into a rut, unable to yank my mind out of it.

I cry at everything. Simply to spite myself and embarrass myself.

Doesn't your work interest you, Esther? You know, Esther, you've got the perfect setup of a true neurotic. You'll never get anywhere like that, you'll never get anywhere like that, you'll never get anywhere like that.

Frustrated? Yes. Why? Because it is impossible for me to be God - or the universal woman-and-man - or anything much. I am what I feel and think and do. I want to express my being as fully as I can because I somewhere picked up the idea that I could justify my being alive that way.

It was becoming more and more difficult for me to decide to do anything in those last days. And when I eventually did decide to do something, such as packing a suitcase, I only dragged all my grubby, expensive clothes out of the bureau and the closet and spread them on the chairs and the bed and the floor and then sat and stared at them, utterly perplexed. They seemed to have a separate, mulish identity of their own that refused to be washed and folded and stowed.

I could smash the measured clicking sound that haunts me - draining away life, and dreams, and idle reveries. Hard, sharp, ticks. I hate them. Measuring thought, infinite space, by cogs and wheels. Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that- I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much- so very much to learn.

I thought of crawling in between the bed sheets and trying to sleep, but that appealed to me about as much as stuffing a dirty, scrawled-over letter into a fresh, clean envelope. I decided to take a hot bath. There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.

Girls like that make me sick. I'm so jealous I can't speak.

If I had to strain my brain with any more of that stuff I would go mad.

I am furious with myself. My disguises no longer protect me.

I spiral back to me, sitting here, swimming, drowning, sick with longing. I have too much conscience injected in me to break customs without disasterous effects; I can only lean enviously against the boundary and hate, hate, hate the boys who can dispel sexual hunger freely, without misgiving, and be whole, while I drag out from date to date in soggy desire, always unfulfilled. The whole thing sickens me.

They had the windows fixed so you couldn't really open them and lean out, and for some reason this made me furious.

I am not ready for anything to happen. I should have murdered this, that murders me.

I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.

Worse Even than your maddening Song, your silence.

Thirty years now I have laboured to dredge the slit from your throat. I am none the wiser.

My consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars - to be a part of scene, anonymous, listening, recording - all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery.

I'd always spoil what I did so nobody would ask me to do it again.

Me sentía embotada y pesada y llena de sueños destruidos.

Being with Jody and Mark and Cal was beginning to weigh on my nerves, like a dull wooden block on the strings of a piano. I was afraid that at any moment my control would snap, and I would start babbling about how I couldn't read and couldn't write and how I must be just about the only person who had stayed awake for a solid month without dropping dead of exhaustion.

Bir kad?n?n bir tek temiz yaÅŸant?s? olmas? gerektiÄŸi, oysa bir erkeÄŸin biri temiz, öteki temiz olmayan iki tane yaÅŸant?s? olabileceÄŸi düÅŸüncesi çileden ç?kar?yordu beni.

And damn it to hell, if I don't be quiet I'll never get that Botany done! –

Physics made me sick the whole time I learned it. What I couldn't stand was this shrinking everything into letters and numbers...I knew chemistry would be worse, because I'd seen a big chart of the ninety-odd elements hung up in the chemistry lab, and all of the perfectly good words like gold and silver and cobalt and aluminum were shortened to ugly abbreviations with different decimal numbers after them.