Quotes About Anger

In truth, the 'populist anger' fueling Trump's coalition is fundamentally different from Sanders' 'progressive populism.' The superficial similarities between the two end when they talk about solutions.

If you are patient in one moment of anger, you will escape a hundred days of sorrow

We, hurt by ourselves, keen to be hurters and keen to be hurt back deep inside. We, like weapons laid beside anger asleep.

Menulislah yang membantuku mengatasi rasa marah yang membakar di hati kebanyakan rakyat Palestina.

I could hardly get to sleep for dreaming of revenge.

Times are grave and you seem very indignant.

I knew that they were about to attack the man and I was both afraid and angry, repelled and fascinated. I both wanted it and feared the consequences, was outraged and angered at what I saw and yet surged with fear; not for the man or of the consequences of an attack, but of what the sight of violence might release in me. And beneath it all there boiled up all the shock-absorbing phrases that I had learned all my life. I seemed to totter on the edge of a great dark hole.

An enraged man is a lion, a cunning man is a fox, a firm man is a rock, a learned man is a torch.

to do anything with attachment. With desire . . . with anger..greed..lust . . . fear.. is only creating more karma, which is keeping you in the game . . . on the wheel of birth and death once you see through that. . . Desires can't help but fall away

To hell with you. To hell with you and to hell with the Internet.

Once you kill all of us, and you're alone, you'll die! The hate will die. That hate is what moves you, nothing else! That envy moves you. Nothing else! You'll die, inevitably. You're not immortal. You're not even alive, you're nothing but moving hate.

There are many actors alone who haven't acted Pirandello or Shaw or Shakespeare for years because their plays are too aware of the world. We could use their anger. And we could use the honest rage of those historians who haven't written a line for forty years. True, we might form classes in thinking and reading.

I claim no victory. But there was blood on my gloves when I hung them up. When was the last time you did a story like that, out of pure indignation?

I'm not a brave person; I'm an angry person on occasion.

Everywhere you look in the literary cosmos, the great ones are busy loving and hating. Have you given up this primary business as obsolete in your own writing? What fun you are missing, then. The fun of anger and disillusion, the fun of loving and being loved, of moving and being moved by this masked ball which dances us from cradle to churchyard. Life is short, misery sure, mortality certain. But on the way, in your work, why not carry those two inflated pig-bladders labeled Zest and Gusto.

How must it have felt, Pikes, the night they seized your films, like entrails yanked from the camera, out of your guts, clutching them in coils and wads to stuff them up a stove to burn away! Did it feel as bad as having some fifty thousand books annihilated with no recompense? Yes. Yes. Stendahl felt his hands grow cold with the senseless anger.

Right now I've got an awful feeling I want to smash and kill things.

She's nothing to me; she shouldn't have had books. It was her responsibility, she should've thought of that. I hate her. She's got you going and next thing you know we'll be out, no house, no job, nothing.

When you want to do a thing badly enough you lie to yourself. You say the other people are all wrong. Well, soon after I started killing people I realized they were just fools and I shouldn't be killing them. But it was too late. I couldn't go on with it then, so I came up here where I could lie to myself some more and get angry, to build it all up again.

Fu qualcosa di formidabile e di subitaneo, come l'improvviso rompersi di un vaso colmo d'ira.

A half-naked, betel-chewing pessimist stood upon the bank of the tropical river, on the edge of the still and immense forests; a man angry, powerless, empty-handed, with a cry of bitter discontent ready on his lips; a cry that, had it come out, would have rung through the virgin solitudes of the woods as true, as great, as profound, as any philosophical shriek that ever came from the depths of an easy chair to disturb the impure wilderness of chimneys and roofs.

Cried out to us, Debark, here is the entrance. More than a thousand at the gates I saw Out of the Heavens rained down, who angrily Were saying, Who is this that without death Goes through the kingdom of the people dead?

The job, in Schopenhauer's steady view, is rarely brought off in a successful way. For in "the boundless egotism of our nature there is joined more or less in every human breast a fund of hatred, anger, envy, rancor, and malice, accumulated like the venom in a serpent's tooth, and waiting only an opportunity of venting itself and then, like a demon unchained, of storming and raging." Not exactly what we should nowadays call a fun guy, Schopenhauer.

The fourth of his insights that allowed him to triumph in his situation was the understanding that hatred, anger, and ill will never cease if we react with the same kind of feelings.