Quotes About Rebellion

I am going to sing for you, a little off key perhaps, but I will sing. I will sing while you croak, I will dance over your dirty corpse.

Baudelaire merely laid his heart bare; Rimbaud plucks his out and devours it slowly.

Puissance, justice, histoire: à bas!

Tenía que aprender a vivir con la escoria, a nadar como una rata de alcantarilla o ahogarme. Si optas por incorporarte al rebaño, eres inmune. Para que te acepten y te aprecien, tienes que anularte, volverte indistinguible del rebaño.

Don't moralize at me! I have no love For images, old gods, prophetic words. I want to talk to Utnapishtim! Tell me how.

At present I would prefer not to be a little reasonable,' was his mildly cadaverous reply.

Strange as it may seem, there is nothing in which a young and beautiful female appears to more advantage than in the art of smoking.

Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I'd strike the sun if it insulted me. For could the sun do that, then could I do the other;

Cussed fellow-critters! Kick up de damndest row as ever you can; fill your dam bellies 'till dey bust - and den die

I permed my hair 12 years ago, because I always wanted a perm, but my mother would never let me have one! I got a lot of stick, but I didn't care - I loved the curls. The growing out was the difficult part!

A few years ago, I bought an old red bicycle with the words Free Spirit written across its side - which is exactly what I felt like when I rode it down the street in a tie-dyed dress.

A few years ago, I found out that there's a lot of Gypsy blood on my mother's side. I'm wild in that way - I've been brought up to do my own thing.

My spiked hair goes back about 15 years ago. I had long, curly rocker hair then. The woman who cuts my hair thought I needed a new style, so I let her surprise me. I flipped when I first saw it, but I soon realized the look was really me. I've always been a little crazy.

I can get quite well known, and then I can unleash this kind of anarchist-hippie thing that I've been holding like a very precious liquid, carefully, without spilling any, for years and years and years. And now I'm going to pour it everywhere.

Sometimes I want to yell on this track; I want to yell the whole song, and I don't think nothing's wrong with that, but the older generation feel like you can't.

In the sports hostel, I would not eat the boiled egg and would store it away in my bag. But eventually, Nambiar sir found out and gave me a yelling. There were so many eggs in my bag and they started smelling.

There's a frenetic energy in screaming and yelling and being a rebel in a way.

My grandmother is the type of person, I'd be down playing cards in the park, and she'd take the dog and walk down to the park, like 10:30 or 11 at night. I was 12 years old. She'd come down yelling for me. I'd be embarrassed in front of my friends. She'd grab me by the hair on my head.

After being a born-again punk rocker for about ten years, the whole thing started falling apart. American hardcore had become Californians in baggy shorts making jokes about being white trash, and British punk had morphed into dogmatic crusties yelling at everyone about everything.

The only people for me are the mad ones: the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who... burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles.

I used to wear this cowboy outfit. I wouldn't take off. It was ridiculous. My mum was like, 'You've got to take that off sometime,' and I was like, 'No way, this is it.' It was the '70s - it was turquoise and yellow, really psychedelic colors. I wanted to be a psychedelic cowboy.

At first, my bedroom had flowers and yellow walls and huge furniture in plastic that was orange and green - and furry green bed cover and everything. Then, I think the day I turned 13, I painted the walls black and put Kurt Cobain on the wall and just changed everything into a dark theme.

When I was in fact a child, six and seven and eight years old, I was utterly baffled by the enthusiasm with which my cousin Brenda, a year and a half younger, accepted her mother's definition of her as someone who needed to go to bed at six-thirty and finish every bite of three vegetables, one of them yellow, with every meal.

There are important rules in life - like not parking on yellow lines or stealing from your neighbour. But some rules are made to be broken.