Quotes About Anger

Inside the bars, my strong, regular heart fuelled by youthful anger had restored to us our own territory; we'd established an area of freedom.

Alone and terrified, anger was my only weapon against the horror.

I am reduced to calling a memory the sense of existing in the same place, with the same people and doing the same things (...) For a very long time, the days went by, each one just like the day before then I began to think, and everything changed. Before, nothing happened other than this repetition of identical gestures, and the time seemed to stand still, even if I was vaguely aware that I was growing and that time was passing. My memory begins with my anger.

Una nación de gente cegada por la ira, una raza de bestias feroces indiferentes al sufrimiento humano. La gente vivía para las venganzas y los ajustes de cuentas. Lo que se buscaba no era el final del sufrimiento sino su continuación.

How many people we know who sour their lives, who ruin all that is sweet and beautiful by explosive tempers, who destroy their poise of character, and make bad blood!

Noticing your reactions to suffering, anger, pain is the key to well-being.

Anger is a form of dishonesty. Nobody is perfect. It's a lie to expect the people around you to be perfect.

Why are you so angry? Corporate America has always sucked.

But, when the chips are down, its better to be furious with someone you love, or frightened for someone you love, than be put through the merciless horror of being ashamed of someone you love.

There are few things under heaven more unnerving than the silent, accumulating contempt and hatred of a people.

We live in a nation of pigs and murderers.

I don't give a damn if there's any hope for them or not. But I know that I am not about to be bugged by any more white jokers who still can't figure out whether I'm human or not. If they don't know, baby, sad on them, and I hope they drop dead slowly, in great pain.

The black man in our midst carried murder in his heart, he wanted vengeance. We carried murder too, we wanted peace.

He was one of those people who, quick to laugh, are slow to anger; so that their anger, when it comes, is all the more impressive, seeming to leap from some unsuspected crevice like a fire which will bring the whole house down.

But this is not the story which Native Son tells, for we find here merely, repeated in anger, the story which we have told in pride. Nor, since the implications of this anger are evaded, are we ever confronted with the actual or potential significance of our pride; which is why we fall, with such a positive glow of recognition, upon Max's long and bitter summing up.

I wanted to do something to his cheerful, hideous, worldly face which would make it impossible for him ever again to smile at anyone the way he was smiling at me.

one of those people who, quick to laugh, are slow to anger; so that their anger, when it comes, is all the more impressive

And he suddenly takes the bag of tomatoes and smashes them against the nearest wall. Thank God the wall is blank, thank God it is now beginning to be dark. Thank God tomatoes spatter but do not ring.

You are evil, you know, and sometimes when you smiled at me I hated you. I wanted to strike you. I wanted to make you bleed. You smiled at me the way you smiled at everyone, you told me what you told everyone — and you tell nothing but lies.

To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious, is to be in a rage almost all the time. So that the first problem is how to control that rage so that it won't destroy you. Part of the rage is this: it isn't only what is happening to you, but it's what's happening all around you all of the time, in the face of the most extraordinary and criminal indifference, the indifference and ignorance of the most white people in this country.

Malayan. It means 'ashamed.'" He smiled to himself. It was a contraction of puki mahlu. Mahlu ashamed, puki a Golden Gulley. Malays grant feelings to that part of a woman: hunger, sadness, kindness, rapaciousness, hesitancy, shame, anger—anything and everything.

I didn't know what was going on, didn't understand a bit of it, didn't like any of it. Maybe that's why the first thing I packed was my guns. If your brain won't work, wave a gun around. Sometimes that helps.

But all good things come to an end, often a sad angry miserable end. The cause for such an end can usually be whittled down to one of three things: money, sickness, love lost.

I'll kill you to death till you're dead and die, you Sons of Whores