Quotes About Frustration

If I were a character in a novel, I'd snipe the bitch who wrote my life this way.

Bloody hell, Ms. Lane, how many "buts" are you going to throw at me besides the only one I want? He rakes a hungry gaze over my ass and I shiver.

I'm restless, bored, and invisible. A dangerous thing for any woman to be.

My need for sex seems directly proportionate to how much emotion I repress, and I'm repressing violently today.

Fuck, I think. Just that. A multitude of various fucks all in one great big clusterfuck.

When she'd finally cranked up her favorite Godsmack CD in an effort to tune him out, he'd let out a roar that had rattled the windows in her car: By all that's holy, woman, what is that hideous noise? Cease and desist! A battlefield at full charge could be no more cacophonous!

Grimm?" "Um?" "I hate you." "I know, lass. You told me that last night. It seems all our little 'discussions' end on those words. Try to be a bit more creative, will you?

He sounded positively hostile. I could tell he was about to hang up. "Wait a minute. Who's IYCGM?" "If you can't get me," he gritted. "And IYD?" "If you're dying, Ms. Lane. But if I were you, I'd call that one only if I was sure I was dying, otherwise I'll kill you myself." I heard a man in the background laugh. The line went dead.

He's the ultimate plagiarist, copying what others do if it proves successful and putting his own spin on it, which really pisses me off, because it`s far more difficult to come up with the original idea than steal someone else`s and spruce it up a bit.

I was pissed-off walking. Or rather pissed-off sitting, tangled in crimson silk sheets that smelled like somebody'd been having a sexathon. That would be me. And that made me even madder.

When do these three days expire?" "That's what really pisses me off. I don't know. He was annoyingly vague." Barrons looked at me, then a faint smile curved his lips, and for a moment I thought he might laugh. "The nerve. Threatening you and not being precise about it." "My sentiments exactly.

Chicks. Christ. They just don't get it sometimes.

It irritated him that she wouldn't turn about and look at him; it was the least she could do while they said nasty things to each other.

She was waiting for him to say something intelligent, Grimm realized. Damn the woman, but she should know better than that. Intelligent just didn't happen when he was around Jillian.

Immortals. Pains in the asses, every one of them.

You're no joy to live with, I can tell you that!" "I smile sometimes. I even laughed about your Ã¢â'¬Â¦ hat.

People in Hell want ice water.

I burn everywhere and I'm hot, and I'm hot, and I'm so fecking unbelievably hot that I start tearing off my clothes and I can't do it fast enough because I feel thick and slow and stupid

Hawk couldn't find Adam. He couldn't find Grimm. And now he couldn't find his own wife. What the hell kind of wedding day was this?

My clarinet sounded like an apoplectic yak. For the brief days I blew the trumpet, a hostile-sounding pig snorted along in jerky fits and starts with the rest of the irritated band.

A Hunter-sized bowel movement on her head would go a long way toward making me feel better.

I had a sudden, unwanted appreciation of men. I had a problem I couldn't fix. But if I could create a manageable problem, like a fistfight, and kick the shit out of it, it sure would make me feel better for a while.

Clock hands are ticking away my life at someone else's direction. It's so wrong.

A chaste little kiss. Hardly even a kiss at all. Not that she would have invited his kisses, but—since he'd gone ahead and taken one and she was already damned for permitting it—was it too much to ask that he commit to it? Exercise a little follow-through? But