Quotes About Anger

Hello-o-o-o-o, Nick," I said, hitting thek hard. "You're the world's biggest jerk for what you did to Jax. You ever show your scrawny face in Cincinnati again, and I'm going to shove a broomstick up your ass and set it on fire. You got that?

Listen to me, you broken-fanged, moss-wiped excuse for a back-drafted blood bag!" Jenks said, a silver-edged red dust slipping from him.

Yeah, well, if he tries, I'm going to burn his office down to his red stapler.

You weak-willed, jealous sack of vampire spit.

You think?" I snapped, jumping when Newt slammed a side kick into the barrier, her robes swirling dramatically. Great, she knew martial arts on top of everything else. Why not? She'd obviously been around a while.

Bug?" Jenks shouted, incensed. "You sack of sweat stink. I've got farts that smell sweeter than you. Think you're better than me? Poop ice cream cones, do you?

I reached to push my hair out of my eyes, finding someone had tied a knot it in. My face screwed up in anger as I realized it was a HAPA knot. Real funny.

Jenks made a face. "He turned my son into a thief and broke my partner's heart. Why should I give him a draft of consideration?

Make a necklace out of his teeth and bathtub duckies out of his dried-up balls…

Tómate tu tiempo-dije con ligereza, cabreada y nerviosa a la vez. -Jenks y yo vamos a recurrir al plan B. -¿El plan B?-dijo Ivy-. ¿Cuál es el plan B? Jenks se puso rojo. -Coge el pez y sal pitando.

Bug!" Francis exclaimed. "You're a—" His words choked off with a rasp as I jerked my arm. "Bug?" Jenks shouted, incensed. "You sack of sweat stink. I've got farts that smell sweeter than you. Think you're better than me? Poop ice cream cones, do you? Call me a bug! Rachel, let me do him now!

Drab? Soldier yelled. I'll give you drab. Beat her, would you? Beat my wife? I'll feed your head to the vultures, you snotty little hamster with your golden pelt and buttery looks!

Righteous indignation is like some kind of drug or religious mania, addictive and stupidifying.

It takes courage to keep love at the center when you know just as well as anyone else the real state of things! It's easy to get angry, anyone can do that. It's making good that's the hard part, it's staying hopeful that's the hard part! It's staying in love that's the hard part.

He was not her therapist now but her lover, and if you couldn't make your lover angry, then what kind of lover was he? She saw the awful bind that one was put in when one's lover was also one's therapist-- how their objective eye and soothing voice could become the distancing device of a professional manner. A man doing his job--it was intolerable to be judged by such an eye, as if he were somehow above it all, and did not have any problems himself, any emotions that he could not control.

Is anger always just fear flung outward at the world? Can anger ever be a fuel for right action? Can anger make good?

Scared of her, solicitous of her, in love with her—she had seen all that. And shouting at her furiously for some small treachery, or for nothing at all; she had certainly seen that too. Because he had loved her.

Where there is faction, there is conflict; where there is conflict, there is anger. And anger distorts judgment.

You bloody old towser-faced boot-faced totem-pole on a crap reservation.

The bloody old towser-faced boot-faced totem-pole on a crap reservation, Dixon thought. 'You bloody old towser-faced boot-faced totem-pole on a crap reservation', he said.

When she opened her eyes, he gave a sudden cry and smashed his clenched fist a couple of times into her wet bottom. His joy was transformed into momentary fury. Otherwise, he never beat his children. That was the mother's job.

When she scooped up her clothes, opened his door, then snapped her fingers for a guard down the hall, Wroth watched like a bystander. "Pssst. Minion. I need these laundered. Very little starch. Don't just stand there gawking or you'll anger my good frenemy General Wroth. We're like this." He couldn't see her but knew she was twining two fingers together.

She needed to scream two little words. But Jo didn't surrender; she Hulk-smashed. She squeezed until things broke.

Way to hurt my feelings, Wroth. She sniffled. Now I'll really have to kill you.