Quotes About Anger

Era inútil, mis oraciones se sentían vacías. Había comenzado una guerra en mi alma, y ya no podía seguir orándole a un Dios de amor con el corazón lleno de odio.

I knew that my heart and mind would always be tempted to feel anger--to find blame and hate. But I resolved that when the negative feelings came upon me, I wouldn't wait for them to grow or fester. I would always turn immediately to the Source of all true power: I would turn to God and let His love and forgiveness protect and save me.

The more I prayed, the more aware I became that, in order to receive God's true blessing, my heart had to be ready to receive His love. But how could He enter my heart when it was holding so much anger and hatred?

Kumazawa:—"When others blame thee, blame them not; when others are angry at thee, return not anger. Joy cometh only as Passion and Desire part.

Anger is never without an argument, but seldom with a good one.

This is how guilt infects, if you're afraid that someone will be angry with you, you immediately start feeling angry with them.

Zafar's lot never write what they really feel which is FUCK YOU WICKED CUNTS I HOPE YOU DIE PAINFULLY FOR THE HORRIBLE THINGS YOU DID TO US AND THE ARROGANT FUCKING CRUELTY YOU'VE DISPLAYED EVER SINCE. They write high-sounding shit like JUSTICE FOR KHAUFPUR and KAMPANI MEET YOUR LIABILITIES

Any rapist would feel pretty dang upset to see his car packed full with rotting fish heads and limburger cheese...Also, if the 542 women responsible were crowded onto the street where he lived, insisting that he move himself and his stinky car to another locale. Nobody likes to be pelted with 2060 bloody tampons.

Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. ~ Buddha

Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured." ? Mark Twain

Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.

how much patience is a virtue, how much rage is a necessity?

Possibile che tu non riesca a pensare ad altro che alla tua vendetta?

Anger is a way of holding sadness at bay; the emotions are two sides of the same coin. Anger is energizing. When we are angry we look out, adopt a protective posture, and get ready for action. In contrast, sadness saps our energy. When sad, we look inward, become reflective, and are aware of our vulnerability.

And sometimes somebody is laughing--and that laugh is stuffing all of yesterday's and today's anger back into the mouth that it's oozing from.

Because what a man like him really needs is a God whom he can blame and whom he can get mad at when things go wrong. This way he's got nobody who can be the target of his anger and hatred and that's why he blames his wife, but she minds - and the one who is called God doesn't mind.

You fucking knew that fucking cunt would fuck some cunt.

You cannot be the good all the time — sometimes it is necessary to get angry. [Vincent Van Gogh]

But, children, you should never letSuch angry passions rise;Your little hands were never madeTo tear each other's eyes.

Let dogs delight to bark and bite, ?For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight, ?For 'tis their nature too. But, children, you should never let ?Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made ?To tear each other's eyes.

And I felt, I think for the first time, a rage against men. Not because they could say, "I'm going," and go. Not because they could go to college and become lawyers or preachers while women could only be drudge or ornament but nothing between. Not because they could be parents at no cost to their bodies. But because when they love a woman they may be with her, and all society will protect their possession of her.

Sunday had spread all over the city. It looked as if the sun had smacked into the earth and broken into pieces and chunks of wet light were scattered everywhere -- in the streets, on the window panes, on puddles and roofs. I remembered a day long ago when Grandmother had cleaned a big fish. Her forearms were splattered with shiny scales. It was as if she had Sunday in her whole body. When my father got angry, he had Tuesday.

And in this self-expression I put all the thoughts I had about her, I released the anger she made me feel, my amorous way of thinking about her, my determination to exist for her, the desire for me to be me, and for her to be her, and the love for myself that I put in my love for her--all the things that could be said only in that conch shell wound into a spiral.

Cosa li spinge a questa vita, cosa li spinge a combattere, dimmi? [...] E' l'offesa della loro vita, il buio della loro strada, il suicidio della loro casa, le parole oscene imparate fin da bambini, la fatica di dover essere cativi. E basta un nulla, un passo falso, un impennamento dell'anima e ci si ritrova dall'altra parte, come Pelle, dalla brigata nera, a sparare con lo stesso furore, con lo stesso odio, contro gli uni o contro gli altri, fa lo stesso.