Quotes About Anger

I can see he's not in your good books,' said the messenger. 'No, and if he were I would burn my library.

Men in rage strike those that wish them best.

Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.

O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce.

If I be waspish, best beware my sting.

Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry. Katherine: If I be waspish, best beware my sting. Petruchio: My remedy is then, to pluck it out. Katherine: Ay, if the fool could find where it lies. Petruchio: Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail. Katherine: In his tongue. Petruchio: Whose tongue? Katherine: Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell. Petruchio: What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again, Good Kate; I am a gentleman.

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our teeples, drowned the cocks! You sulphurour and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's molds, all germens spill at once That make ingrateful man!

Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head

And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury.

I understand a fury in your words But not your words.

To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand; therefore, if tou art mov'd, thou runst away. (To be angry is to move, to be brave is to stand still. Therefore, if you're angry, you'll run away.)

Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood.

I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall—I will do such things— What they are, yet I know not, but they shall be The terrors of the earth!

Thou calledst me a dog before thou hadst a cause, But since I am a dog, beware my fangs.

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself.

I can hardly forbear hurling things at him.

What, you egg? / [He stabs him.]

Out, you tallow-face! You baggage!

Why what a fool was I to this drunken monster for a God. - Caliban

If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge.

Mother, you have my father much offended.

Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries that Thou hast done to me. Therefore turn and draw.

I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.

I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.