Quotes About Anger

They're angry. Unstable. And no doubt armed.

A populist feeding anger and fear is more likely to get elected.

eventually that pain turned to bitterness, and the bitterness turned to anger, and the anger became rage. Until that rage became madness.

Professor Robinson was revealing, not creating, the anger. The fear. And yes, perhaps even the cowardice they kept hidden away. She was like some genetic mutation awakening illnesses that would have normally lain dormant. She was the catalyst. But the potential, the sickness, was already there.

It's too easy to feed the anger. Too cowardly to stoke the hate. You must look inside yourself and decide who you are and who you want to be. Character is not created in times like these. It's revealed. This is a trying time. A testing time. Be careful.

Screw off. Leave me alone!' Now she rounded on him. 'Where're your tears? Eh? You're more dead than she is. You can't even cry. And now what? You want me to stop? It hasn't even been a day yet, and you're what? Bored with it? Not the center of the universe anymore? You want everything to go back to the way it was, like that.' Clara snapped her fingers in his face. 'You disgust me.

But what happened to people who never spoke, never raised their voices? Kept everything inside? Gamache knew what happened. Everything they swallowed, every word, thought, feeling rattled around inside, hollowing the person out. And into that chasm they stuffed their words, their rage.

There've been times I've been mad enough to kill, and may have, had I known I would get away with it.' 'What made you that angry?' Clara was astonished. 'Betrayal, always and only betrayal.

Our secrets make us sick because they separate us from other people. Keep us alone. Turn us into fearful, angry, bitter people. Turn us against others, and finally against ourselves.

I'll keep it all inside; festering, rotting; but I'm really a nice person, kind, loving. "Get out of my way, you motherfucker." Oops, sorry …

Gamache in anger. "He knew that's

From deep inside Harriet Landers came every shriek she'd ever swallowed. All the fear, the frustrations, the anger and buried resentments. The wounds, the pain, the losses and humiliations. The times she'd been ignored, marginalized, diminished. Judged and found wanting. The parties not invited to, the boys who'd mocked her. The girls who'd left her out. All her insecurities, loneliness, hurts, and rage from birth to this, her last moment, came rushing out.

When were these seeds of anger sown / And on what ground.

All I'd inherit would be outrage. I don't want that. For me or my family.

This is what the war has done to me. Now I want to destroy because of it. There is such hate and rage inside me now. The Angkar has taught me to hate so deeply that I now know I have the power to destroy and kill.

I get mad at everyone because they are working, living. Sometimes I hate you because you're not dying. Isn't that awful?

He must be aged to have good manners. Modern young men have to be angry, and that means plain rude.

Temperament is something you welcome creatively, for it is based on sensitivity, empathy, awareness . . . but a bad temper takes too much out of you and doesn't really accomplish anything.

and at night my dreams are full of the cursing of me fucking god fucking me.

When you're too mad and too rattled to see straight, you're bound to make mistakes. You can't go on and on for years being miserable about a situation and not have it change you. You get so you can't stand yourself.

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

Whom they have injured they also hate.

Anger, if not restrained, is frequently more hurtful to us than the injury that provokes it.

Arms observe no bounds; nor can the wrath of the sword, once drawn, be easily checked or stayed; war delights in blood.