Quotes About Frustration

What do you mean, speak louder? If I could speak louder, I wouldn't need a telephone.

When the cover was lifted to reveal nothing but a heaped plate of pineapple chunks, however, there were people in the audience who could take no more.

the men sit around in the square scratching their crotches and dreaming up their next war.

Il emportait un malaise qu'il connaissait trop bien, l'agacement, la gêne de ne jamais exprimer ce qu'il eût voulu exprimer, de ne jamais rencontrer la personne à qui il devait confier un aveu indéfini, un secret qui eût tout changé et dépouillé de son signe néfaste.

Human legs, Annie, are always too short, toes never fit, and people are thankfully almost always totally preoccupied with either subversion, defiance or escape.

He put his hand on his forehead and scoured the French department of his memory for a word. He knew it was in there. He'd put it in almost fifty years before and hadn't had cause to remove it. But for the life of him he couldn't find it.

Siri let out a silent puff of air. If he'd had a wife like this he would certainly have shot her long ago.

It's good to hope; it's the waiting that spoils it (Yiddish

Doctors think a lot of patients are cured who have simply quit in disgust.

Ik ben zo gek op sigaretten dat ik soms zin krijg om niet-rokers op hun bakkes te slaan.

She loved her mom and dad, but sometimes they were not very helpful.

The punishment of desire is the agony of unfulfillment

Such a person does not cease longing after insatiable appetites, struggling in the darkness without satisfaction. This tortures him and makes the fire grow upon him all the more.

This is the bitterest pain among men, to have much knowledge but no power.

Of all men's miseries the bitterest is this: to know so much and to have control over nothing.

The worst pain a man can suffer: to have insight into much and power over nothing.

When we don't speak, said Edgar, we become unbearable, and when we do, we make fools of ourselves.

Of all fatiguing, futile, empty trades, the worst, I suppose, is writing about writing.

Oh, by the thrice-beshitten shroud of Lazarus!

Damn it all, Cromwell, why are you such a . . . person? It isn't as if you could afford to be.

He thinks, ten years I have had my soul flattened and pressed till it's not the thickness of paper. Henry has ground and ground me in the mill of his desires, and now I am fined down to dust I am no more use to him, I am powder in the wind. Princes hate those to whom they have incurred debts.

His suppressed grief becomes anger. But what can he do with anger? It must also be suppressed.

I wonder," he says, "how it can be that, though all these people think they know the king's pleasure, the king finds himself at every turn impeded." At every turn, thwarted: maddened and baffled.

Do you know what I hate? I hate to be part of this play, which is entirely devised by him. I hate the time it will take that could be better spent, I hate it that minds could be better employed, I hate to see our lives going by, because depend upon it, we will all be feeling our age before this pageant is played out.