Quotes About Anger

I am Jack's prostate. I get cancer. I kill Jack.

Ich ärgere mich, also bin ich.

I was in a mood to destroy something beautiful

The insomnia was on again, and I was in the mood to destroy something beautiful

I felt like destroying something beautiful.

I could just call you Asshole or Shithead. Because you're kinda both, you ask me.

You ever . . . look at a YouTube comments section? You'd . . . want everyone dead . . . too.

There was always someone like that out there, ready to ride their hate like a horse and gallop right over anybody who wasn't like them, who had what they wanted. Someone always wanted to bathe in blood. Because hate like that didn't stay quiet.

Mean eyes, angry eyes, eyes that had nothing but suspicion flashing in them like light off spent bullet casings.

In anger, nothing right nor judicious can be done.

How angry am I? You don't want to know. Nobody wants to know about that.

Above all, in my anger, I was sad. Isn't that always the way, that at the heart of the fire is a frozen kernel of sorrow that the fire is trying—valiantly, fruitlessly—to eradicate.

what I really want to shout, and want in big letters on that grave, too, is FUCK YOU ALL. Don't all women feel the same? The only difference is how much we know we feel it, how in touch we are with our fury. We're all furies, except the ones who are too damned foolish

It shows how long-lived anger is, the desire for vengeance: it has a nuclear half-life, and it teaches people patience in the most sinister way.

But to be furious, murderously furious, is to be alive.

Precisely. I believe you have some emotional and anger issues that are going to prevent you from becoming the Dom I know you want to be. Issues that, if I may be so blunt, are keeping you from finding the love and connection I know you long for." Lawrence's

In a toxic, festering sort o' way...

So much hate to go around, it's hard not to hate back. Much harder than learning to fight back.

Then, having finished with his gesture of remorse, he sat down, like any decent man who has been deeply wronged, and planned murder.

He is not angry now; knives are not angry. He is not tearful now; knives are not tearful. He is simply sharp and keen and inevitable.

And to be wroth with one we love…Doth work like madness in the brain.

She quickly exited the room, hearing the echoes of the mastiff's angered barks fade behind her down the hallway. As she walked, she breathed a quick benediction to the patron saint of sleuthing. "Nancy Drew," she whispered, "be with me now." At

Take it out on each other if you cannot take it out on the ones who deserve it.

Resentment was the hinge of her personality.