Quotes About Rebellion

Generally speaking, it's difficult not to be at least mildly terrified of a girl who might, at any moment, take her shirt off.

Man thinks that he can make arbitrary use of the earth, subjecting it without restraint to his will, as though it did not have its own requisites and a prior god-given purpose, which man can indeed develop but must not betray. Instead of carrying out his role as a cooperator with God in the work of creation, man sets himself up in place of God and thus ends up provoking a rebellion on the part of nature, which is more tyrannized than governed by him.

There's probably some truth in the idea that killing for sport is an act of rebellion against one's own mortality, as if in possessing the power of death one somehow defeats or deflects it.

Oh ! S'il avait pu partir, tout de suite, n'importe où, et ne jamais revenir, ne jamais écrire, ne jamais laisser savoir ce qu'il était devenu ! Mais non, il fallait rentrer, rentrer dans la maison paternelle et se coucher dans son lit

Anything is better than doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

Few words are more chilling when put together than make friends. The command to pair bond sent ice water through Stevie's veins. She wanted falling rocks. But she knew what would happen if she didn't do the talking—her parents would. And if her parents started, anything could happen.

Sometimes it is worth any amount of suffering just to prevent giving your parents the opportunity to be right.

You want to play? Ellis yelled. All right, then! I played a lot of video games as a kid, bitches! There! Oliver yelled. That way! Toward Boulevard Périphérique. There! There! The car swerved abruptly to the right. Ginny heard Keith swear for a solid ten seconds.

Villagers love to remember the glorious old days, when they used to skewer one another with sticks, fire muskets into one another's faces, and cut off their neighbors' heads in the name of king or country or whatever they were into back then.

It was very pretty. It also made Marlene look very demure, which she probably hated. Ideally, Marlene probably wanted an outfit that had a special holder for a gun.

They were poets—machine-gun poets who brooked no compromise, who rode any road they wished, who drove laughing into the sun.

Daughters were supposed to like prom dresses and getting their hair done and shopping. Stevie assumed those things were all fine and good, but she didn't understand them, really—at least not in the way that you were supposed to understand them. She never once in her life felt the desire to dress up

Once threw a mug of tea at a policeman

Fine, he said. Anything is better than what I'm supposed to be doing.

Nate exhaled long through his nose. 'Fine,' he said. 'Anything is better than doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

for glam and goth and boys who liked glam and goth.

There I was, creeping down the sweet garbage alley to break into the restaurant….

I heard about her from one of the top librarians at the public library, this girl from Avenue A who read Greek and slipped into one of the rare books rooms three times. They said she was trouble, but good trouble. Good trouble.

Fine," he said. "Anything is better than doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

My dear fellow, who will let you?" "That's not the point. The point is, who will stop me?

I threw it down the air shaft. There's a concrete floor below.

We wish to be damned with you, rather than blessed with all our brothers. Do

Look," said Roark evenly, and pointed at the window. "Can you see the campus and the town? Do you see how many men are walking and living down there? Well, I don't give a damn what any or all of them think about architecture—or about anything else, for that matter. Why should I consider what their grandfathers thought of it?

Yet there is nothing emotional or rebellious in her countenance; it is one of profound, inexorable calm; but one feels the tense vitality, the primitive fire, the untamed strength in the defiant immobility of her slender body, the proud line of her head held high, the sweep of her tousled hair. " Excerpt From: Ayn Rand. "Night of January 16th.