Quotes About Anger

What the feck?" Dani snapped when I answered. "You sleep like the fecking dead up there! I been calling you for five fecking minutes!

Hate eats the hater.

Sonofamotherfuckinggoddamnbitch! JaysustiittyfuckingChrist!" That was Lor. Man of few words.

Who's the little girl?" Don't speak, Barrons had told me on the way there, no matter what anyone says. I don't care how pissed off you might get. Swallow it. His derisive "little girl" ringing in my ears, I bit down hard and didn't say a word. "Just the latest piece of ass, McCabe." I no longer had to bite down. I was speechless.

I know a thing about resentment: it is a poison you drink yourself, expecting others to die.

Fuck, I think. Just that. A multitude of various fucks all in one great big clusterfuck. As in: I am fucked if I want this Ã¢â'¬Â¦ this Ã¢â'¬Â¦ newborn imbecile. And she is so fucked if I take her. And fuck if I'm going to walk away.

All I need is a badly mangled, irate sentence stalking me.

She glanced rapidly between them, blinking and hoping her double vision would go away. They were glaring at each other. Would they fight? If she saw her own double she probably be tempted to punch it once or twice. Especially today. For being so stupid.

I'll give you until nine P.M. tomorrow to get the bloody hell out of this country and out of my way. The nerve. I'd had to bite my tongue on the juvenile impulse to snap, Or what?—you're not the boss of me, second only to an even more juvenile impulse to call my mom and wail, Nobody likes me here and I don't even know why!

I'll give you until nine P.M. tomorrow to get the bloody hell out of this country and out of my way. The nerve. I'd had to bite my tongue on the juvenile impulse to snap, Or what? -you're not the boss of me, second only to an even more juvenile impulse to call my mom and wail, Nobody likes me here and I don't even know why!

If I were a character in a novel, I'd snipe the bitch who wrote my life this way.

Fuck, I think. Just that. A multitude of various fucks all in one great big clusterfuck.

I was pissed-off walking. Or rather pissed-off sitting, tangled in crimson silk sheets that smelled like somebody'd been having a sexathon. That would be me. And that made me even madder.

You son of a bitch. You hurt my woman," Dageus growled

Have you no sense at all, that you would provoke me? I'm twice your size, you know," he murmured against her ear.

Don't lose yourself in anger, Mac. It's gasoline. You can burn it as fuel, or you can use it to torch everything you care about and end up standing on a scorched battlefield, with everybody dead, even you—only your body doesn't have the good grace to quit breathing.

I will choose anything over fear. Rage is fuel. Rage is gasoline. And Ryodan wasn't completely right—because rage, wielded as a weapon, with focus, purpose, and skill, is also massively useful energy. Anger can refine, distill, clarify.

Unmute yourself," I demanded. "I. Am. Not. Muted." Did he ever sound pissed!

I stare at him through the dim light as instant lust eclipses anger, will, time, place.

Rage bubbles up inside me, cold, clear, and as psychotic as the carnage unfolding before my eyes.

You have become a monster. There is nothing left of the man I love.

I handled it carefully, aware of my heightened strength. I'd bent the door of the Maybach when I'd shut it too hard. Barrons was still pissed about it. Nobody likes a door-slammer, he'd growled.

A Hunter-sized bowel movement on her head would go a long way toward making me feel better.

Why are you so pissed at me? It's not my fault who I am. The only thing that's my fault is what I choose to do with it.