Quotes About Frustration

I'm sick!" he bellowed, his voice cracking like a frozen lake underfoot.

You ever . . . look at a YouTube comments section? You'd . . . want everyone dead . . . too.

The desire for perfection is like a pit of wet coal silt: it will grab your boots like iron hands and never let you go. 13.

Dad wouldn't be able to find his own butt with a map and a fully charged Ass Detector.

Control lost.

I've finally come to understand that life itself is the Fun House. All you want is that door marked EXIT, the escape to a place where Real Life will be; and you can never find it.

How angry am I? You don't want to know. Nobody wants to know about that.

It was supposed to say Great Artist on my tombstone, but if I died right now it would say such a good teacher/daughter/friend instead; and what I really want to shout, and want in big letters on that grave, too, is FUCK YOU ALL.

I discovered I could hate her a bit, and because I didn't tell her so, because our friendship went along on this reduced, part-time scale that didn't allow for arguments, there was no noticeable change in our relationship.

It was supposed to say "Great Artist" on my tombstone, but if I died right now it would say "such a good teacher/?daughter/?friend" instead; and what I really want to shout, and want in big letters on that grave, too, is FUCK YOU ALL.

It was supposed to say Great Artist on my tombstone, but if I died right now it would say such a good teacher/daughter/friend instead; and what I really want to shout, and want in big letters on that grave, too, is F*** YOU ALL.

Even knowing all, being forbidden to tell. Even wanting to help, rescue is impossible. I know of no condition more painful than that.

Broken dreams are bad enough. But the dream that has no hope … the dream that is doomed long before it's broken, that's the worst of all.

Sensing the strange, nagging frustration of a worker who knows his work is nonproductive.

The horizon is 25 miles away. You keep walking to towards the horizon and it just keeps moving back. Life is like that. You never reach your goal. We are doomed to disappointment because in our pursuit of perfection we are constantly reminded that we will never reach it. The goal, like the horizon, is beyond our reach.

The horizon is 25 miles away. You keep walking towards the horizon and it just keeps moving back. Life is like that. We are doomed to disappointment because in our pursuit of perfection we are constantly reminded that we will never reach it. The goal, like the horizon, is beyond our reach.

I was a weird little kid. I was very irritable, bored, frustrated. I felt my imagination bubbling inside my head without having any way to express itself. Given a crayon and paper, I would not draw a train or a house. I would draw these monsters, beasts and demons.

What do you expect me to do, leap across space and brain them with the jawbone of an ass? Or maybe they'll go away if I throw ricks at them?

I hate hospitals. The nurses all have icy hands and the color on the goddamned TV is always changing.

Ah, James, our James, she says, sounding wistful. Can't live with him, can't kill him slowly enough. - Callie (pg. 141)

Weeks passed, but my Word-A-Day Calendar was stuck on motherfucker.

Take it out on each other if you cannot take it out on the ones who deserve it.

Carpenter snarled when he said the word, a mangy dog hoarding his bone:

Failing at everything except his fear of success. Passed over yet again. Archivist of slights. Everyone else's good fortune is food out of your mouth or a hug you never got from someone who should have loved you better. Halfway through lunch she realized glass ceilings allow glimpses up into another person's hell.