Quotes About Frustration

Cause I can jus' as well go away, George, an' live in a cave. You can jus' as well go to hell, said George. Shut up now.

Curley's like a lot of little guys. He hates big guys. He's alla time picking scraps with big guys. Kind of like he's mad at 'em because he ain't a big guy.

You know why you did it. You were mad at him, and you were mad at him because your father hurt your feelings. That's not difficult. You were just mean.

WHEN TWO MEN LIVE TOGETHER they usually maintain a kind of shabby neatness out of incipient rage at each other.

line between hunger and anger is a thin line.

I know what you hate. You hate something in them you can't understand. You don't hate their evil. You hate the good in them you can't get at. I wonder what you want, what final thing.

And when a man's feelings are hurt he wants to strike at something

It wasn't my fault. I'm innocent. Why won't these dogs believe me?

He looked at me like I was stupid. Why do people always look at me like that?

There is no doubt that I have lots of words inside me; but at moments, like rush-hour traffic at the mouth of a tunnel, they jam.

It's been the same story ever since I can remember, ever since Wilson – the Republicans don't do a thing for the little man.

One world: everybody fucks everybody. When he thinks of all the fucking there's been in the world and all the fucking there's going to be, and none of it for him, here he sits in this stuffy car dying, his heart just sinks. He'll never fuck anybody again in his lifetime except poor Janice Springer, he sees this possibility ahead of him straight and grim as the known road.

We love too late... Oh why, why may we never join hand to hand, or give back speech truly?

You are all of twenty and very much feeling your womanhood. The strange thing about womanhood is that it goes on and on--the same daily burden of constant vague expectation and of everything being just slightly disappointing compared with what one knows one has inside oneself waiting to be touched off. It's rather like being a set of pretty little logs that won't quite catch fire, isn't it?

He slouches down and in answer to Springer says, "Things go bad. Food goes bad, people go bad, maybe a whole country goes bad. The blacks now have more than ever, but it feels like less, maybe. We were all brought up to want things and maybe the world isn't big enough for all that wanting. I don't know. I don't know anything.

He realizes that the heat on his cheeks is anger; he has been angry ever since he left that diner full of mermaids.

As they deepen together he feels impatience that through all their twists they remain separate flesh; he cannot dare enough, now that she is so much his friend in this search; everywhere they meet a wall. The body lacks voice to sing its own song.

Why is Mommy crying?" the young boy asks his dad, all sugared up and bewildered with concern. "Because you're an asshole," barks back the father with exasperated logic.

I have always thought that there is no more fruitful source of family discontent than a housewife's badly cooked dinners and untidy ways.

What the hell kind of family did I marry into?

I want to conquer the world and it seems like my own family is putting a stop to that.

I've always just had troubles with my family because I'm psychotic. It had nothing to do with that.

The studied, unquestioning pace of my family irritated me.

Heaven? Floating about with everyone you ever knew for eternity? Me family does me 'ed in after one day at xmas, I'd rather be mush.