Quotes About Defiance

I want three words: Woman, Atheist, Anarchist. That's me.

I'm not going to back down one bit in attacking Trump.

I always had this attitude of, 'They don't get to tell me how I live my life.'

I've never been any good with authority.

I've always been a tilter of lances against authority.

I was never one for dolls.

Anyone can run against me. I don't care.

I don't care what anyone says. It's my life, and I can do what I like.

They will wrest 'dull words' from my cold dead hands.

I was good at embarrassing authority. It was fun. There's a fearlessness that goes along with being a kid.

Enemies are dispirited when they see you happy. They know their purpose can be thwarted.

Fighting, to me, has always been something different than what everybody's else opinion is. I've never believed what everybody else has.

If you come, you better come in force because I will kill every single one of you. My hand won't shake, my aim won't falter. My face will be the last thing you'll see before you die." I jammed my knife into the table and walked out.

Yes I can," Curran snarled. "Listen: this is me telling you what you will not do." I raised the cookbook and tapped him on the nose. Bad cat.

Just wait until he figures out I shut him out of his slut hut.

As the dog sprinted back, Jack said to the girl, "Sweetheart,honey, why do you have to be so hateful?" "Why not?" Ellie said. "It's not like being good ever got me anywhere.

The government people wanted us to believe there was something wrong with her. Because she was strong. Because she stood up for what she believed. Times were hard, but she was still Mom, and she refused to let anyone reduce her.

Papa, who instructed us to always hold our heads up, who promised us we were worthy, who assured us we were descended from kings—and from architects and farmers and healers and visionaries—no matter what all the hateful people in the world had to say about us.

For a quick second, when he met my eyes, I knew what he was thinking, too. Malcolm, the troublemaker. Malcolm, the one who won't toe the line. Looking in his eyes—a thing I maybe never did before—it speared me.

The government men dragged Mom out of the house. They held her by the elbows and ankles and shoulders and thighs, their harsh, meaty hands digging into her softness. She flailed against their touch, but they overpowered her with ease, the way white men always know how to do.

I know without knowing: the man in that tree was a proud black man. Uppity, some might say. Out of his place, some might say. Too smart for his own good. I can hear the words, see those pink lips moving, spitting the words that promised his death. His back never bent underneath it, and they hated that most. I know plenty.

They can only kill us once.

People resist exploitation. They resist as actively as they can, as passively as they must.

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