Quotes About Frustration

What's the point of three foot pedals?" Citra complained. "People only have two feet.

No one rages against the system anymore. At most, they just glare at it a bit.

Think of it as a piano, Anastasia." "I hate the piano.

He is at once a great lazybones, pitifully ambitious, and famous for unhappiness; for his entire life he has had practically nothing but half-baked ideas. The sun of laziness, which ceaselessly glows within him, vaporizes him and gnaws away that half-genius that heaven bestowed upon him.

Voin vakuuttaa teille, ettei minua vaivaa mikään erityisesti. Olen jatkuvasti pahantuulinen (sekin on sairaus), koska kärsin typeryydestä ympärilläni ja olen tyytymätön itseeni.

Baby, I said, I'm a genius but nobody knows it but me.

It wasn't my day. My week. My month. My year. My life. God damn it.

you son of a bitch, she said, I am trying to build a meaningful relationship. you can't build it with a hammer, he said.

The fuckers. There, I feel better. God-damned human race. There, I feel better.

Nothing is worse than to finish a good shit, then reach over and find the toilet paper container empty. Even the most horrible human being on earth deserves to wipe his ass.

The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little more off you, until there was nothing left. At the age of 25 most people were finished. A whole goddamned nation of assholes driving automobiles, eating, having babies, doing everything in the worst way possible, like voting for the presidential candidate who reminded them most of themselves.

Our disappointment sits between us.

Everything else just kept picking and picking, hacking away. And nothing was interesting, nothing. The people were restrictive and careful, all alike. And I've got to live with these fuckers for the rest of my life, I thought.

sometimes I hate you, she said.

It is possible to be truly mad and to still exist upon scraps of life.

It wasn't my day. My week. My month. My year. My life. God damn it.

It's all overrated, man. Sex is only a great thing if you're not getting any.

The whole world is a sack of shit ripping open. I can´t save it.

I was getting depressed. My life wasn't going anywhere. I needed something, the flashing of lights, glamour, some damn thing. And here I was, talking to the dead. I finished my first drink. The second was ready.

Tell him to seek the stars and he will kill himself with climbing.

My cock was hard, but my spirit wasn't in it.

bad writing's like bad women: there's just not much you can do about it

I went to the bathroom and threw some water on my face, combed my hair. If I could only comb that face, I thought, but I can't.

I have lost my rhythm. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I have been robbed of my filth.