A Quote by Terry O'Quinn
I don't think I could play a character that I couldn't relate to somehow. I'm not unfamiliar with frustration, anger, shame, helplessness and a load of other emotions that make up our psycho-soup. I try to focus on that frustration, that sense of unfairness, and multiply it.
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Then, you also have that, we all have that sense of wanting to belong. We all have that road-rage, you can relate to that road-rage because you're so frustrated. The sense of frustration, the sense of getting caught, doing something wrong, all those are sort of universal emotions and you just have to make it specific to yourself and you channel this, I don't know what it is, but this inner self and then try to capture the vulnerability.
Of course everyone has those moments of frustration now and then, when you say, 'I wish I could play well already - or just stop.' But it's too much trouble to stop just for a moment of frustration. It is when you keep going that you make the most progress.
I think that crying is a way women and men express frustration, anger, or passion. And we should not feel compelled to mute those emotions.
I know I'm not going to write as well as I used to. I no longer have the stamina to endure the frustration. Writing is frustration - it's daily frustration, not to mention humiliation.
I try to stop myself from getting frustrated. I'm not a hundred percent successful, but I'm a thousand times better than I used to be. Anyone who's angry, nasty or rude is really offering a plea to be loved. I play a game with myself, trying to convert them from what I call low-energy emotions that drain us - frustration, irritation, anger and impatience - into high-energy emotions that sustain us - love, caring, kindness.
Wrestling is an opportunity to go to a show, be a part of it, and feel the emotions from anger to frustration to sadness to pain - everything that music can make you feel.
The real destroyer of inner peace is fear and distrust. Fear develops frustration, frustration develops anger, anger develops violence.
To hope is to risk frustration. Make up your mind to risk frustration.
Basic anatomy. That has got to be the ongoing frustration: Why can't my fingers do what I want them to do? Not being able to play what I hear in my head - that is the ultimate source of frustration.
When you react, you don't give your mind the time to get filled with emotions. You are devoid of anger, fear, and frustration; you are simply moving.
I don't play pyrotechnic scales. I play about frustration, patience, anger. Music is an extension of my soul.
I find Nigeria very frustrating. I am not alone in this. There are many Nigerians abroad. As you know, the brain drain is just incredible. And when we talk to one another and there is a certain sense of frustration and but I struggle not to let the frustration degenerate into dispair.
Raw emotions - anger, frustration, bitterness, resentment - are the feelings we tend to hide from people we want to impress but spew on those we love the most.
I believe we all have lists of shame. Long lists. We live with our constellation of shames quite privately. But they weigh us down. I wish I could abracadabra away shame. This is such a waste of our small time on earth. Our bodies are often the focus of shame. The shame of the body changing. Of the sexual body. Of the aging body. Not being able to do what you once could do. Even just looking at your skin as you age, the texture, the wrinkle, the sag, and somehow feeling ashamed and responsible for its changes.
It's good to be able to deal with it [anger] somehow other than drinking, fighting, crashing cars, hitting your kid, your wife, your husband, your whatever. Paintbrushes, pens, movie cameras, guitars, microphones, typewriters -- these are good things. Weights. These are positive ways, good ways to deal with anger, frustration, alienation, rage. 'Cause all the other ways do nothing but hurt people.
A very elementary exercise in psychology, not to be dignified by the name of psycho-analysis, showed me, on looking at my notebook, that the sketch of the angry professor had been made in anger. Anger had snatched my pencil while I dreamt. But what was anger doing there? Interest, confusion, amusement, boredom--all these emotions I could trace and name as they succeeded each other throughout the morning. Had anger, the black snake, been lurking among them? Yes, said the sketch, anger had.
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