Feeling Crappy Quotes

I still get recognized. It's flattering, but it can be uncomfortable. Maybe because it only seems to happen when I'm looking and feeling crappy. ~ Mara Wilson

Procastination is not about not doing is about not doing and feeling crappy. ~ David Allen

Whenever I think about my stupid empty life, I come to the conclusion that I'm just wasting my time, and I'm not the only one. Everybody I know is the same, except for old Jiko. Just wasting time, killing time, feeling crappy.
And what does it mean to waste time anyway? If you waste time is it lost forever?
And if time is lost forever, what does that mean? It's not like you get to die any sooner, right? I mean, if you want to die sooner, you have to take matters into your own hands. ~ Ruth Ozeki

But the first glad moment in our first love is a vision which returns to us to the last, and brings with it a thrill of feeling intense and special as the recurrent sensation of a sweet odour breathed in a far off hour of happiness. It is a memory that gives a more exquisite touch to tenderness, that feeds the madness of jealousy, and adds the last keenness to the agony of despair. ~ George Eliot

I'm going to grab something to eat," Lorelei said. "Would you like to come with me?"
"No, thank you. I think I'll just stay here with him." Gabriel slowly lowered his face to rest his chin upon the bed near Aaron's frighteningly still hand.
"I'm not feeling very hungry. ~ Thomas E. Sniegoski

His voice was cool and steady. "You've proved my point, Lillian. If a man you don't even like can bring you to this state, then how much easier would it be for St. Vincent?"
She started as if he had slapped her, and her eyes widened.
The transition from warm desire to a feeling of utter foolishness was not a pleasant one.
The devastating intimacy between them had been nothing but a lesson to demonstrate her inexperience. He had used it as an opportunity to put her in her place. Apparently she wasn't good enough to wed or to bed. Lillian wanted to die. Humiliated, she scrambled upward, clutching at her unfastened garments, and shot him a glare of hatred. "That remains to be seen," she choked out. "I'll just have to compare the two of you. And then if you ask nicely, perhaps I'll tell you if he - "
Westcliff pounced on her with startling swiftness, shoving her back to the lawn and bracketing her tossing head between his muscular forearms. "Stay away from him," he snapped. "He can't have you."
"Why not?" she demanded, struggling as he settled more heavily between her flailing legs. "Am I not good enough for him either? Inferior breed that I am - "
"You're too good for him. And he would be the first to admit it."
"I like him all the better for not suiting your high standards!"
"Lillian - hold still, damn it - Lillian, look at me!" Westcliff waited until she had stilled beneath him. "I don't want to see you hurt."
"Has it eve ~ Lisa Kleypas

That hurts my pride, Watson. It is a petty feeling, no doubt, but it hurts my pride. It becomes a personal matter with me now..."

-Sherlock Holmes-
-The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: The Five Orange Pips- ~ Arthur Conan Doyle

Blonde movie stars in the 1950s seem to have been pretty much divided between breathy bombshells (Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield) and slim, elegant swans (Grace Kelly, Eva Marie Saint). Producers didn't really know what to do with Judy Holliday, a brilliant, versatile actress who simply didn't fit into any easy category. Though she left behind a handful of delightful films, one can't help feeling a sense of waste that her gifts were not better handled by Hollywood (or, for that matter, by Broadway). Perhaps, like Lucille Ball, Judy Holliday would have blossomed with a really good sitcom; but, unlike Lucy, she never got one. ~ Eve Golden

At least Lars was curious about the appeal of jazz to black folk; for most observers, such ponderation is akin to contemplating why gorillas like bananas. The attractiveness of jazz to the nonblack is well documented in publicly funded documentaries where experts speak of jazz in the past tense. They look authoritatively into the camera and ingratiate themselves with the Man by saying things like, "White people were hearing something in jazz that says something deeply about their experience. I'm not sure that it would have been this way if we were not a country of immigrants ... so many people felt kind of displaced ... I think that was part of its amazing appeal, was how it spoke to feeling out of sort and out of joint and maladjusted."
What hogwash. Does my fondness for classical music make me well adjusted? Besides, people who are really fucked up don't turn to jazz; they turn to heroin, opium, whiskey, and Vonnegut. ~ Paul Beatty

I thought about suicide all the time, but it seemed toomuch effort, swallowing all those pills or jumping off things. If I'd lived out in the country I would have found a quiet stretch of railway track, and lain on it, fallen asleep, so that I would never have known when my last moment came. In London, the minimum tube fare had gone up so much that even to get near the line cost a fortune. Suicide seemed an extravagance I couldn't afford. People never leave you alone, either; I knew that if I'd tried to lie down on the line, any number of commuters would have pulled me off again, so that I didn't delay their train.
There must have been murderers out there who wanted to kill, with no way of finding those who wanted to be dead. If there had been some way of contacting them, a date-with-death line, I would have called them to set up a meeting. The current ways of death seemed too haphazard; it was all left up to chance. Had Chance come up, tapped me on the shoulder, said "Oi, you - long black tunnel, white light, off you go," I wouldn't have complained.
It was like having frostbite all over - feeling numb and in pain at the same time. ~ Helena Dela

Yes. But ... " She stroked the smooth backs of her claws down his arms. "You'll have to spend eternity making it up to me."
He released her to lever himself above her, cupping the back of her neck. His gaze flickered over her face, then met the eyes of his wife as she smiled up at him. Feeling love for her so strong it hurt him, his voice ragged with it, he rasped, "Milaya, it is done. ~ Kresley Cole

I just got tired of being sick and tired and feeling down. Unfortunately, you don't realize this until you're getting sober but the reason why you're depressed all the time is it's the drugs that are depressing you. ~ Steven Adler

There's that fallen heart feeling that you rushed right through the moments where you should've been paying attention. Well, get used to that feeling. That's how your whole life will feel some day. This is all practice. None of this matters. We're just warming up. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

In terms of writing, I think what most fiction writers treasure more than anything is the feeling that they're living for the length of a book inside another person. ~ Lauren Groff

Remember that for all the books we have in print, are as many that have never reached print, have never been written down-even now, in this age of compulsive reverence for the written word, history, even social ethic, are taught by means of stories, and the people who have been conditioned into thinking only in terms of what is written-and unfortunately nearly all the products of our educational system can do no more than this-are missing what is before their eyes. For instance, the real history of Africa is still in the custody of black storytellers and wise men, black historians, medicine men: it is a verbal history, still kept safe from the white man and his predations. Everywhere, if you keep your mind open, you will find the words not written down. So never let the printed page be your master. Above all, you should know that the fact that you have to spend one year, or two years, on one book, or one author means that you are badly taught-you should have been taught to read your way from one sympathy to another, you should be learning to follow you own intuitive feeling about what you need; that is what you should have been developing, not the way to quote from other people. ~ Doris Lessing

That, that right there. That's it, that feeling, that moment of breathlessness, that little surge in your chest, the prickle of heat along your skin and the low hot roll of your belly, that's what being alive is all about. ~ Christine Zolendz

Imagine the feeling of catching yourself loving yourself without trying. It's like catching a sunset out of the corner of your eye. It will stop you. ~ Kamal Ravikant

It's funny. That feeling of home. It's so temporary, like bathwater: the warmth eventually grows cold. ~ K.M. Alexander

Of course I had written a film about Elizabeth I, and I loved the Tudor period, and I think at the time Working Title and I had debated on whether to do Elizabeth I or Henry VIII. I'd always wanted to do Henry VIII. Like Elizabeth, I'd had this feeling that it had never properly been addressed. ~ Michael Hirst

The unfailing rhythm of the seasons, the ever-turning wheel of life, the four facets of the earth which are lit in turn by the sun, the passing of life
all these filled me once more with a feeling of oppression. Once more there sounded within me, together with the cranes' cry, the terrible warning that there is only one life for all men, that there is no other, and that all that can be enjoyed must be enjoyed here. In eternity no other chance will be given to us.
A mind hearing this pitiless warning
a warning which, at the same time, is so compassionate
would decide to conquer its weakness and meanness, its laziness and vain hopes and cling with all its power to every second which flies away forever.
Great examples come to your mind and you see clearly that you are a lost soul, your life is being frittered away on petty pleasures and pains and trifling talk. "Shame! Shame!" you cry, and bite your lips. ~ Nikos Kazantzakis

Nobody should have to die to a crappy soundtrack ~ James R Tuck

I stand so abruptly that Leiza startles.

"If Violet wants to find me, I'll be outside chopping wood," I tell her, causing her to choke back a sound that suspiciously resembles a smothered laugh.

When I eye her, she's the picture of seriousness, nodding once again. "Of course, Alpha," she says so graciously.

Tearing my shirt over my head, I toss it to the ground. Leiza's phone rings, and she puts it aside.

"A vampire is calling me. That can't be good," she says as she meets my eyes, almost asking for permission to answer Shera's call.

"They're trying to reach me. Not you. They can kiss my ass. I need a minute to deal with this."

"I thought you were tired and going to get some sleep," Leiza states, and then swallows down whatever else is on the tip of her tongue.

"I'm no longer tired," I point out dryly.

Another nod from Leiza, and I walk out shirtless to go chop some fucking wood for the fireplace Violet rarely ever uses.

There's an axe wedged into one of the piles of wood near the chopping block, making this simpler than expected, so I get to work.

Before I can even make one small pile, Damien is wheeling into the driveway, barely putting the brake on, before he hops out.

His eyes narrow on me, and then his brow furrows. It's when his lips start to twitch that I bristle, feeling a little too transparent.

"Didn't realize you'd gotten this pathetic ~ Kristy Cunning

Man will have replicated his own intelligence not when he teaches a computer to reason but when he teaches a computer to have a nagging feeling in its circuits. ~ Robert Breault

Then we are nothing to him,' said the merchant, sorrow brimming in his eyes. 'I surrendered everything, all my wealth, for yet another indifferent god. If he cannot protect us, what is the point?'

She wished that she had an answer to such questions. Were these not the very grist of priestly endeavours? To grind out palatable answers, to hint of promising paths to true salvation? To show a benign countenance gifted by god-given wisdom, glowing as if fanned by sacred breath? 'It is my feeling,' she said, haltingly, 'that a faith that delivers perfect answers to every question is not a true faith, for its only purpose is to satisfy, to ease the mind and so end its questing.' She held up a hand to still the objections she saw awakened among these six honest, serious believers. 'Is it for faith to deliver peace, when on all sides inequity thrives? For it shall indeed thrive, when the blessed walk past blissfully blind, content in their own moral purity, in the peace filling their souls. Oh, you might then reach out a hand to the wretched by the roadside, offering them your own footprints, and you may see the blessed burgeon in number, grow into a multitude, until you are as an army. But there will be, will ever be, those who turn away from your hand. The ones who quest because it is in their nature to quest, who fear the seduction of self-satisfaction, who mistrust easy answers. Are these ones then to be your enemy? Does the army grow angered now? Does it strike out at ~ Steven Erikson

The more difficulties one has to encounter, within and without, the more significant and the higher in inspiration his life will be. ~ Horace Bushnell

Were you feeling all right?"
"No, not at all."
"Bellyache?"
"Yeah, a two-month bellyache called Vivian-itis. Symptoms include desperate longing and inability to do anything but feel like a douchebag. Patient can't do shit on the field but stand there like an ass, wondering what the fuck he's doing with his life. It's chronic. No known cure. ~ C.D. Reiss

Let's stop feeling so guilty about global warming ~ Emma Thompson

She brought a finger to her mouth, licked it. Salt. A clean scent. Not male sweat rich with the scent of musk and masculine flesh, but something else. Something purer. Tears.
"Iain?"
He trembled and she could have sworn she heard his tears run down his cheeks and plop onto the pillow.
"My God, Beth. I've seen you. I've seen you in my heart and in my soul." And then he stiffened, pressed his fingers into her hips, squeezing. "Can I, Beth? Can I come inside you?"
"Yes," she murmured, holding him close, feeling his
body shudder beneath hers. "And stay forever. ~ Charlotte Featherstone

The most significant dimension of freedom is the freedom from one's own ego - in other words, from the feeling that I am the center of everything ~ Wojciech Kurtyka

Any love is condemned to suffer a murderous persecution. We are impotent of feeling and do not forgive other people's love. So don't let anyone know that you love. ~ Nelson Rodrigues

He is a human being in kid's clothing. He has the organs and the feeling of his species, but none of the rights. And he is not alone. This country is stewing itself in the notion that you're not a person until you reach voting and drinking age. It's wrong. You don't get it, Doctor (with all due respect), and because you don't get it you can't give it. Let him go home. He isn't crazy, he isn't even strange. We have met the enemy, and he is us. ~ Howard Buten

The tragedy of her father's absence had never actually been an acutely tragic event for her. As she grew up and came to understand the world, he was a part of it. An already dead part. His absence was the landscape of her family. Increasingly, as the years went on, she didn't really know what she was missing, but that didn't stop her from missing it. She fixated on him. She prayed to him. She attempted to research him, found obscure publications of his in scientific journals. The language was so formal, she could barely understand it. But she told herself, This is familiar. This is mine, bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh. She thought, There was a feeling he had, when he wrote this, when he was alive. He communicated it to me, even though everyone who reads this article only gets a lot of information about this scientific test subject, and his reaction to all these oils. She dreamed her father was still out there [ . . . though] her belief that her father was still living did not stop her from telling stories about his death. ~ Lydia Netzer

I find it not just strange but almost ridiculous that people could take a song like the one I was doing and interpret it is corroding anything. Folks have the feeling that oftentimes if you don't talk about something it will go away. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

As he sat up, he heard soft dripping sounds from the bathroom, little plips like water slipping over the edges of the tub and into the floor. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he realized where he‟d last heard that sound. His muscles tight with strain from his earlier exertions, he stood and walked warily toward the half open bathroom door and the tub beyond it. Slipping quietly past the door, he saw that the curtain was drawn, and again the shadowed figure lay behind it. One long, slim, leg dangled from the end of the tub, beads of water gliding down its length and off the polished toes. At the other end he saw a mass of auburn curls, matted deep red near the porcelain of the tub. It was the dream and the vision again, more real now, too strong to deny. Shaking, he moved toward the curtain, gagging on the sickly smell of rust and roses, feeling the thin nylon glide between thumb and palm as he pulled it back to reveal his darkest nightmare and deepest regret. He could see the crimson water now, blood bubbles gliding over its surface and clinging to the legs dangling over the tub‟s edge. When he‟d pulled the curtain completely away from the tub and around to its opposite side, he saw her face. Her eyes were closed and he saw that her lids were bruised and purple against the translucent paleness of her face, drained completely dead white under the makeup she‟d brushed on before she‟d died. Staggering by the sight of her, he knelt by the tub and extended one shaking han ~ Amanda M. Lyons

So for me the essence of life is very simple. It is just this, awareness that allows us to trust in our own truths (without feeling any need to convince others), living gracefully amidst the chaos, maintaining a sense of balance (not being pulled around by the supposed opposites or false paradoxes), and being able to choose how we direct our lives. ~ Julia Woodman

Religion is never devoid of emotion, any more than love is. It is not a defect of religion, but rather its glory, that it speaks always the language of feeling. ~ D. Elton Trueblood

All of my lower-middle-class Boston issues rose to the surface. I don't like it when bratty, privileged old white guys speak to me like I am their mouthy niece. I got that amazing feeling you get when you know you are going to lose it in the best, most self-righteous way. I just leaned back and yelled, "FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU." Then I chased him as he tried to get away from me. ~ Amy Poehler

To all the talented young men who wander about feeling that there is nothing in the world for them to do, I should say: 'Give up trying to write, and, instead, try not to write. Go out into the world; become a pirate, a king in Borneo, a labourer in Soviet Russia; give yourself an existence in which the satisfaction of elementary physical needs will occupy almost all your energies.' I do not recommend this course of action to everyone, but only to those who suffer from the disease which Mr Krutch diagnoses. I believe that, after some years of such an existence, the ex-intellectual will fin that in spite of is efforts he can no longer refrain from writing, and when this time comes his writing will not seem to him futile. ~ Bertrand Russell

I'm sick of all the pressure. I'm sick of feeling like I'll ruin all their happiness if I don't do what they want me to do. ~ Holly Bourne

Love brings up our unresolved feelings . One day we are feeling loved , and the next day we are suddenly afraid to trust love .
The painful memories of being rejected begin to surface when we are faced with trusting and accepting our partner's love . ~ John Gray

The next day, all that stopped him from feeling pure exultance was the question: had it been too easy? ~ Julian Barnes

I no longer fear Death, though I know that I should. I'm strangely at peace with what I used to think of as my enemy. Living seems more the taskmaster of the two, doesn't it? Life is wonderful and beautiful but oh, how hard it can be. Dying, by contrast, is easy and simple, almost gentle. But who can I tell such a thing to? No one. I am troubled by how remarkable this feeling is. ~ Susan Meissner

I've learned difference between a friend and an acquaintance. Acquaintances provide a warm body in the room. They provide entertainment. They can keep you from feeling lonely. And acquaintances don't involve sacrifice. If they don't fit your schedule, it's no big loss. You can know someone for decades, get together with them on countless occasions, and never become their friend. Friendship means cutting away a small piece of your heart and allowing another person to fill that gap. Friendship is anchored in love. When we put love into action, it communicates value. ~ John Herrick

Faking depends on a measure of complicity between the perpetrator and the victim, who together conspire to believe what they don't believe and to feel what they are incapable of feeling. There are fake beliefs, fake opinions, fake kinds of expertise. There is also fake emotion, which comes about when people debase the forms and the language in which true feeling can take root, so that they are no longer fully aware of the difference between the true and the false. Kitsch is one very important example of this. The kitsch work of art is not a response to the real world, but a fabrication designed to replace it. Yet both producer and consumer conspire to persuade each other that what they feel in and through the kitsch work of art is something deep, important and real.

Anyone can lie. One need only have the requisite intention - in other words, to say something with the intention to deceive. Faking, by contrast, is an achievement. To fake things you have to take people in, yourself included. In an important sense, therefore, faking is not something that can be intended, even though it comes about through intentional actions. The liar can pretend to be shocked when his lies are exposed, but his pretence is merely a continuation of his lying strategy. The fake really is shocked when he is exposed, since he had created around himself a community of trust, of which he himself was a member. Understanding this phenomenon is, it seems to me, integral to understanding how a ~ Roger Scruton

I never ever wanted to change my sport ... Figure skating was my outlet, it was my breath, it was how I could live and transmit everything I was feeling and everything I had worked for and given up and all these sacrifices I'd made throughout the years. It was how I could make them all worth it. ~ Johnny Weir

Did you know the average age of a gamer is thirty-two? Now, I don't see anything inherently wrong with diversion and games, but that is certainly telling about our culture, isn't it? Instead of raising families or creating culture, we are sitting around in our living rooms with our eyes glued to the television, simulating life. We are escapists, cowards, and thieves. We hide, occasionally stealing crumbs from the table of those living the good life. We are avoiding the truth that screams at us from the stillness: 'There is more. You are more than this.' So we anesthetize the truth with busyness. Maybe if we just do more, this feeling of emptiness will go away. And we won't actually have to do any real work. ~ Jeff Goins

Only a man who has felt ultimate despair is capable of feeling ultimate bliss. ~ Alexandre Dumas

While I may not always feel joy, God asks me to give thanks in all things because He knows that the feeling of joy begins in the action of thanksgiving. ~ Ann Voskamp

There can't be anyone, I am sure, who doesn't know what it feels like to be disliked, even rejected, momentarily or for sustained periods of time. Perhaps the feeling is merely indifference, mild annoyance, but it may also be hurt. It may even be that some of us know what it is like to be actually hated - hated for things we have no control over and cannot change. When this happens, it is some consolation to know that the dislike or hatred is unjustified - that you don't deserve it. ~ Toni Morrison

Okay, how's this? Margery O'Hare, I solemnly promise never to marry you."
"And?"
"And I won't talk about marrying you. Or sing songs about it. Or even think about marrying you."
"Better."
H glanced around him, then lowered his voice, placing his mouth beside her ear so that she squirmed a little. "But I will stop by and do sinful things to that fine body of yours. If you'll allow me."
"How sinful?" She whispered.
"Oh. Bad. Ungodly."
She slid her hand inside his overalls, feeling the faint sheen of sweat on his warm skin. For a moment it was just the two of them. The sounds and scents of the mine receded, and all she could feel was the thumping of her heart, the pulse of his skin against hers, the ever-present drumbeat of her need for him. "God loves a sinner, Sven." She reached up and kissed him, then delivered a swift bite to his lower lip.
"But not as much as I do. ~ Jojo Moyes

The best aphorisms are ... portable wisdom, the quintessential extracts of thought and feeling. They furnish the largest amount of intellectual stimulus and nutriment in the smallest compass. About every weak point in human nature, or vicious spot in human life, there is deposited a crystallization of warning and protective proverbs. ~ William Rounseville Alger