Quotes About Rebellion

Magnus did not have enormous respect for the Law, but if he was breaking it he wanted to look good doing it.

Do you really wish to disobey me, Marbas? Do you wish to anger my father?

Teenagers," said Luke, as if it were the filthiest word he knew.

Well you can go ahead and hand your head out the window if you feel like it" "I'm a werewolf not a golden retriever

I make rude gestures at nuns

I should have known the power-hungry slave drivers at River's Edge would see my five days of freedom only as a challenge to be filled.

Only Mary Queen of Scots challenged the prevailing orthodoxy when she wore white to mourn the death of Lord Darnley in 1567, earning the title of 'The White Queen'.

Intent on wiping out their oppressors, Boudicca's army descended on London and burned it to the ground. This first Great Fire of London was so intense that it melted bronze coins, scorching the earth so profoundly that archaeologists discovered a seared layer of soil centuries later.

He stepped back, cursing. "Hey, haven't you heard of the First Amendment? You jerk!" The security guard, still gunning like a mad scientist, said over the loudspeaker, "Sure, you little shit, and Prince Charles is a Tampax

Sapphique strapped the wings to his arms and flew, over oceans and plains, over glass cities and mountains of gold. Animals fled; people pointed up. He flew so far, he saw the sky above him and the sky said, "Turn back, my son, for you have climbed too high." Sapphique laughed, as he rarely did. "Not this time. This time I beat on you until you open." But Incarceron was angered, and struck him down.

Everyone I looked at, their whole lives, did exactly what they were supposed to do without even questioning it, without even wondering if they could do something different.

Nothing's more dangerous than a girl,

There comes an age when you answer a call that has nothing to do with the family that raised you. You grow up over their heads, beyond their reach. They'll hate you for it, but this is the natural order of things.

Hey, I was fifteen. Drama was my contribution to the world.

Stories have a way of changing faces. They are unruly things, undisciplined, given to delinquency and the throwing of erasers. This is why we must close them up into thick, solid books, so they cannot get out and cause trouble.

We all live inside the terrible engine of authority, and it grinds and shrieks and burns so that no one will say: lines on maps are silly.

We like the wrong sorts of girls, they wrote. They are usually the ones worth writing about.

After all, growing up is nothing but an argument with your parents on the topic of whether or not you are grown. You scream am so am so am so from the moment you're born, and they fire back are not are not are not from the moment they've got you, and on it goes until you can say it loudest.

Everyone is a criminal! We are beset on all sides by antirevolutionary forces. Naturally, then, humans fall into three categories: the criminal, the not-yet-criminal, and the not-yet-caught.

Truth is: I was always that kind of girl. Truth is: they don't make dresses any whiter than mine. Truth is: I am not Demeter's daughter. I am Heisenberg's ripe tomato I am Niels Bohr's piece on the side. In the winter I am a particle. In the summer I am a wave. And I didn't get to be queen of hell by letting folks off easy.

Life's still stupid but we got free of story out here under the beeches and the Big Dipper. We had enough of it, of things happening one after another and no end in sight. Of reversals and falling in love and tragic flaws, and by God if I see another motif in my business I will shoot it dead.

She's got a man's nightshirt on and stockings with holes in them. Somebody else's tie, a gold and green chevroned number, hangs around her neck and just at this moment it looks like a king's mantle draped over her shoulders. Her hair's all loose, her lipstick and eyeliner gone a-roving. She's got a cigar in one hand and a jar full of gin in the other, and she's laughing, laughing like for once that damned chicken crossed the road for something really good.

Just slip on something black and low-cut, carve yourself the biggest goddamn slice of whatever cake they said you couldn't have, and be a VILLAIN for a night! Come on. You know they deserve it. You know they ALL deserve it. What's the use of all that rage you got if you don't take it out for spin?

and tourists who know in their hearts that it's not wrong to get so phenomenally plastered that you punch a police horse because everyone knows horses vote Tory,