Quotes About Anger

And my father, who never once in his life would have used the word 'nigger,' would smile and give an almost imperceptible laugh -- not a trace of rage on behalf of black people, not a trace of rage on behalf of me.

Forget letting go and letting God. It was time for brooding, stewing, victimized self-righteousness, and thoughts of revenge. Now you're talking.

They are angry people. This is why they write.

Your anger and damage and grief are the way to the truth. We don't have much truth to express unless we have gone into those rooms and closets and woods and abysses that we were told not to go in to. When we have gone in and looked around for a long while, just breathing and finally taking it in—then we will be able to speak in our own voice and to stay in the present moment. And that moment is home.

Boy, the young are angry at us. Good. This is what usually changes the world, although it's a new experience to be the us the young are mad at.

You idiot! You misbegotten son of a jinn's meeting with a jackass, may the grave of your maternal grandmother be defiled by the dung of ten thousand syphilitic she-camels!

It isn't always the value of what is taken that makes us hate. Sometimes it's just the fact that we've been robbed.

Remember, my dear, you are dealing with the world as it is, not as you believe, maybe rightly, that it ought to be. There will be a great many things you can achieve not by attacking them but with a little patience and a modicum of flattery. Stop to consider what it is you really want, rather than pursuing your anger or your vanity to charge in. So often we leap to passionate judgments—when if we but knew the one thing more, they would be so different.

Their accents must have been hard for her to follow, and their faces, matted under the grime, were haunted by a permanent wariness, a mixture of anger and fear.

It was not a quick flare of temper but the slow, sullen rage of years of anger and hate shown naked for a few moments

Anger at injustice has righted more wrongs than most other things, and it is one of the great creative forces in a civilized society.

Sometimes when we are drowning in our own loss we lash out--anger is momentarily easier to cope with.

I have lived lies. I have done it again and again. I live lies because I cannot endure the weakness of anger, and I cannot admit the irrationality of love.-Marius

I live lies because I cannot endure the weakness of anger, and I cannot admit the irrationality of love.

But I lived a lie. I lived it out of anger. This is what I am trying to tell you. I have lived lies. I have done it again and again. I live lies because I cannot endure the weakness of anger and I cannot admit the irrationality of love. Oh the lies I have told myself and others. I knew it yet I didn't know.

A large American automobile came crawling close to us, and we could hear from behind its thick windows the deep bass of the radio, and the nasty words of a hateful song.It seemed like so much of modern music, a din to drive human beings mad.

After all, it is a lot of trouble to hate people, isn't it? And a lot of trouble to be angry, and a lot of trouble to bother with such abstract notions as guilt or revenge.

I understand the very definition of hate when I think of you.

Vengeance, blind and sterile and contemptible.

Hell is hatred.

and then he glanced at the ceiling and, making a fist with his right hand, he gasped, Damn you... God! Damn you!

Revenge is a lure, a mighty molten lure, even if it is hopeless!

Her narrow oval face was so like his and yet so not. He had never been so divorced from feeling, never so abstract in his anger as she was now.

Anger is too painful for me. Anger is too pathetic. I cannot hear it. I cannot act upon it.