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"His life was a constant war with insensate objects that fell apart, or attacked him, or refused to function, or viciously got themselves lost as soon as they entered the sphere of his existence."
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Exlpore more Frustration quotes
"Otis! Will you PLEASE stop killing me!"
"I didn't know how to go about preparing for the part of someone who can't remember who he is. The frustration angle is written in, but there's also this incredible passive state."
"I'm just generally hugely frustrated, I'm a very, very frustrated man. I'm just a ball of pent-up frustration."
"Off Fuck off... the same story over and over and again and again.. I don't want it!"
"Aargh! I'm too short for this shit!"
"She crouched with her hand out. What the hell was she doing, "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty." Oh my God, she was retarded and I was going to kill Jim."
"The experience of frustration comes from the separation we impose between our yearning and our fear. Generally, we yearn for that which we fear, or at least fear the unknown (mystery, and therefore and paradoxically, truth) that will be caused through the pursuit of yearning. The more the separation between these two, yearning and fear, the more frustration if you are conscious, or the more neurosis if you are not (literally, "I can't stand the frustration, I'm going crazy)."
"It wasn't all frustration. I've had a lot of good times with Ferrari as well."
"I'm sorry that your mystical, godlike powers do not instantly work as you would like them to."
Explore more quotes by Vladimir Nabokov
"The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible."
"I would like to spare the time and effort of hack reviewers and, generally, persons who move their lips when reading."
"A novelist is, like all mortals, more fully at home on the surface of the present than in the ooze of the past."
"Aunt Rosa, a fussy, angular, wild-eyed old lady, who had lived in a tremulous world of bad news, bankruptcies, train accidents, cancerous growths-until the Germans put her to death, together with all the people she had worried about."
"There are gentle souls who would pronounce Lolita meaningless because it does not teach them anything. I am neither a reader nor a writer of didactic fiction, and, despite John Ray's assertion, Lolita has no moral in tow. For me a work of fiction exists only insofar as it affords me what I shall bluntly call aesthetic bliss, that is a sense of being somehow, somewhere, connected with other states of being where art (curiosity, tenderness, kindness, ecstasy) is the norm. There are not many such books. All the rest is either topical trash or what some call the Literature of Ideas, which very often is topical trash coming in huge blocks of plaster that are carefully transmitted from age to age until somebody comes along with a hammer and takes a good crack at Balzac, at Gorki, at Mann."
"I was an infant when my parents died.Thye both were ornithologists. I've triedSo often to evoke them that todayI have a thousand parents. Sadly theyDissolve in their own virtues and recede,But certain words, chance words I hear or read,Such as "bad heart" always to him refer,And "cancer of the pancreas" to her."
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