I spent that day listening to the lonely scrapings of a pen. During that time, from time to time, I heard a Java sparrow twittering. It occurred to me that maybe Java sparrows twitter out of loneliness too. I walked out to the veranda to see. Nevertheless, flying to and fro between two perches busily and incessantly, it did not show the slightest hint of grievance.

You are always complaining.

All those bastards do is complain.

She keeps moaning that she has no time.

The laborers are murmuring against their working conditions.

In fact, he hardly ever complains about his college life.

Many wives complain about high prices.

My father complained about the traffic noise.

No medicine can cure a man of discontent.

It is no use complaining.

There is no cause for complaint.

It does not become you to complain.

We have nothing to complain about.

She is always finding fault with her husband.

She began to grumble and then to weep.

She does nothing but complain.

She does nothing but complain.

She always complains of her teacher.

She made a point of complaining.

She is always complaining of her small salary.