Quotes About Frustration

She could talk. If she was a sphinx she could have talked, if she was a stone she could have talked. I wondered when she'd get tired and leave. Even after I stopped listening it was like being battered with tiny pingpong balls.

Anything, anything to stop drowning in this dull, trivial and cowardly existence.

It's just that the grape has me down.

God damn the geraniums! ...It was like trying to screw during an aerial attack.

She would have been a better fuck in Greece, maybe. America was a shitty place to fuck.

it's the same as before or the other time or the time before that. here's a cock and here's a cunt and here's trouble. only each time you think well now I've learned: I'll let her do that and I'll do this, I no longer want it all, just some comfort and some sex and only a minor love. now I'm waiting again and the years run thin. I have my radio and the kitchen walls are yellow. I keep dumping bottles and listening for footsteps. I hope that death contains less than this.

humanity you sick motherfucker.

there seems to be no way out, I thought, everybody is always angry about the truth even though they claim to believe in it.

That was the trouble with being a writer, that was the main trouble—leisure time, excessive leisure time. You had to wait around for the buildup until you could write and while you were waiting you went crazy, and while you were going crazy you drank and the more you drank the crazier you got.

crawled like a blind slug into the web

He's sick on the dream. We're all sick on the dream, that's why we're out here.

And if you decide to kill somebody, make it anybody and not somebody: some men are made of more special, precious parts: do not kill if you will a president or a King or a man behind a desk - these have heavenly longitudes enlightened attitudes. If you decide, take us who stand and smoke and glower; we are rusty with sadness and feverish with climbing broken ladders

and I walked into a dark hall where the landlady stood execrating and final, sending me to hell, waving her fat, sweaty arms and screaming screaming for rent because the world had failed us both.

That girl enjoyed everything that bored me and everything that I enjoyed bored her. We were the perfect mates: what kept us going was the tolerable and intolerable distance between us. We kept meeting each day—and each night—with nothing solved and no chance to solve it. Perfection.

I emit, I hiss a rather tired and gentle word like shit, then tear this page from the machine. it's your.

my poems are only bits of scratching on the floor of a cage.

Zircoff, I said, put the tomatoes away. Piss, he said, I wish they were hand grenades.

another hot summer night as I sit here and play at being a writer again. and the worst thing of course is that the words will never truly break through for any of us. some nights I have taken the sheet out of the typer and held it over the cigarette lighter, flicked it and waited for the result.

Nuk ishte dita ime. As java ime. As muaji im. As viti im. As jeta ime, dreqi e marrtë..!

Now, I thought, pushing my cart along, I have this job. Is this to be it? No wonder men robbed banks. There were too many demeaning jobs. Why the hell wasn't I a superior court judge or a concert pianist? Because it took training and training cost money. But I didn't want to be anything anyhow. And I was certainly succeeding

You can feel your life being pounded to a pulp by the useless waste of time.

I don't know how he does it but every woman he meets is crazy. he will get rid of one crazy woman but he never gets any relief— another crazy moves right in with him. it's only after they move in and begin acting more than strange that they admit to him that they've done madhouse time or that their families have a long history of mental illness.

I liked to fuck too, but it wasn't my religion. There were too many ridiculous and tragic things about it. People didn't seem to know how to handle it. So they made a toy out of it. A toy that destroyed people.

I just wanted to get away from them. But there was no place to go. Suicide? Jesus Christ, just more work. I felt like sleeping for five years but they wouldn't let me.