Quotes About Rebellion

The best of us have a spice of perversity in us, especially when we are young and in love.

I hate to think I've got to grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China-aster! It's bad enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boys' games and work and manners! I can't get over my disappointment in not being a boy; and it's worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight with Papa, and I can only stay at home and knit like a poky old woman.

As friends, you are very happy, and your frequent quarrels soon blow over, but I fear you would both rebel if you were mated for life. You are too much alike, and to fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to get on happily together, in a relation which needs infinite patience and forbearance, as well as love.

I hate to think I've got to grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China Aster! It's bad enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boy's games and work and manners! I can't get over my disappointment in not being a boy. And it's worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight with Papa. And I can only stay home and knit, like a poky old woman!

No one was in sight, the smooth road sloped invitingly before her, and finding the temptation irresistible, Jo darted away, soon leaving hat and comb behind her and scattering hairpins as she ran. Laurie reached the goal first and was quite satisfied with the success of his treatment, for his Atlanta came panting up with flying hair, bright eyes, ruddy cheeks, and no signs of dissatisfaction in her face.

I don't believe fine young ladies enjoy themselves a bit more than we do, in spite of our burnt hair, old gowns, one glove apiece, and tight slippers that sprain our ankles when we are really silly enough to wear them. and I think jo was quite right.

Those who refuse will be crushed.

All the pent-up frustrations produced by the accelerated change of the late nineteenth century were vented in spontaneous, often violent dissent.

Jody had watched other classmates, including many in college prep, enter such a life with an impatient fatalism. They got pregnant or arrested or simply dropped out. Some boys, more defiant, filled the junkyards with crushed metal. Crosses garlanded with flowers and keepsakes marked roadsides where they'd died. You could see it coming in the smirking yearbook photos they'd left behind.

The uproar of mankind is intolerable and sleep is no longer possible …." So the gods agreed to exterminate mankind.

Son mañosas las palabras, y rebeldes, y huidizas. No les gusta ser domesticadas. Domar una palabra (convertirla en un tópico) es acabar con ella.

La normalidad es un marco convencional que homogeneiza a los humanos, como ovejas encerradas en un aprisco;

Entonces la loca de la casa, harta de tus desprecios de viejo bobo, se marcha con el tío Celerino a buscar cerebros más elásticos.

Será que nuestra historia es tan peligrosa que puede llegar a ser revolucionaria?

I have always resented imposed constraints, hated all the things people said one should and should not do. A woman shouldn't . . . A man wouldn't . . . People were always conjuring up a wall and telling you to stay on your side of it. More often than not, the wall was false, a cliché, an inherited and unexamined stock response to the world.

I don't want to be a PULSATING PIECE OF PROTOPLASM!

I will remember what I was, I am sick of rope and chains - I will remember my old strength and all my forest affairs. I will not sell my back to man for a bundle of sugar cane; I will go out to my own kind, and the wood-folk in their lairs. I will go out until the day, until the morning break - Out to the wind's untainted kiss, the water's clean caress; I will forget my ankle-ring and snap my picket stake. I will revisit my lost love and playmates masterless!

When little boys have learned a new bad word they are never happy till they have chalked it up on a door. And this also is Literature.

I will remember what I was. i am sick of rope and chain.

Which homily brings me directly to a brace of the most finished little fiends that ever banged drum or tootled fife in the Band of a British Regiment. They ended their sinful career by open and flagrant mutiny and were shot for it. Their names were Jakin and Lew — Piggy Lew and they were bold, bad drummer-boys, both of them frequently birched by the Drum-Major of the Fore and Aft.

Yes thats what I done you sorry sods I over the fents and off with the dogs...

It's always precisely the sort of smug old wanker you would never ever want to end up like. We don't live the way you tell us to because we're afraid that if we do we'll grow up to be like you, and the thought of that is unbearable. It's alright for you because you'll be dead soon anyway, but we've still got another fifty or sixty years to live in this stinking country.

Adama was loyal—not to me, mind you. He was a believer, but it wasn't me he believed in. He believed in something that was part of the very air we breathed in the late sixties, and he was loyal to that something. It wouldn't be easy to explain what that something was. Whatever it was, though, it made us free. It saved us from being bound to a single set of values.

You might be a chicken or a human being, but show a little rebelliousness and the next thing you knew you were all on your own.