Quotes about Frustration

Everybody strains after happiness, and the result is that nobody's happy.

Not quite. I'm thinking of a queer feeling I sometimes get, a feel that I've got something important to say and the power to say it—only I don't know what it is, and I can't make any use of the power.

And it's frustrating because you've never been taught how to bridge the gap between theory and practice, between your New Year's resolutions and your actual behaviour.

I'm thinking of a queer feeling I sometimes get, a feeling that I've got something to say and the power to say it -- only I don't know what it is, and I can't make use of the power. If there was some different way of writing...Or else something else to write about.

Take one sexually inept wage-slave,'" she went on, "'one dissatisfied female, two or (if preferred) three small television-addicts; marinate in a mixture of Freudism and dilute Christianity; then bottle up tightly in a four-room flat and stew for fifteen years in their own juice.

Relationship with Jesus must be kept pure and simple. Introducing you to any facet of prayer without making this clear would set you up for frustration and eventual failure. Our motivation for prayer must be relationship—communing with God.

Those who cannot live fully often become destroyers of life.

Hurting people hurt people. And often the one who seems to get "cut" the most is the person lashing out. They nurse their pain, anger, bitterness, frustration, unforgiveness, or resentment until those emotions become their master and they are enslaved to them.

The trees taunt you; the sand mocks you; the water calls your name... and they say golf is a quiet game

When a man becomes dissatisfied with married life, he goes outdoors and finds relief for his frustrations. But we are bound to love one partner and look no further. They say we live sheltered lives in the home, free from danger, while they wield 250       their spears in battle — what fools they are! I would rather face the enemy three times over than bear a child once.

He had been full of the idea so long, dreamed it right through to the end, waited with his teeth set, so to speak, at an inconceivable pitch of intensity. Now, in the reaction, he was running down like an overwound clock.

She confused him and hindered the flow of his ideas. Self-expression had never seemed at once so desirable and so impossible.