Quotes About Aggression

Approach the enemy with the attitude of defeating him without delay.

It's better for me to play with guys because Rock 'n' Roll has such an aggressive attitude

No matter how good or experienced, he [Sehwag] can kill your attitude.

gets aggressive with him. He's very hurt by the

Face it, Jorlan, we are the lesser sex. That is why our name-givers take care of us. Left alone, we would fall to ruin. We are intellectually inferior. Left unmonitored, our innate male aggression would destroy this world.

Wars raged everywhere as men found new, inventive ways to kill even more of their race. It was like a contest, the many tribes of mankind competing to see who could commit the worst atrocities.

Cars frighten me. They look vicious. Growling, screeching, fast-moving assassins. -Bec

and when I finish with your toes and fingers, I'll move on to your nose and ears! Steve yelled. But first I'll cut your eyelids off, so you can see everything that I'm gonna do. After that I'll— Steve, I wheezed, stopping him midflow. Want to know the secret of winning a fight like this? Less talking — more stabbing.

Yes,' Spade growled. 'And when you're slapped you'll take it and like it.' He released Cairo's wrist and with a thick open hand struck the side of his face three times savagely.

Too violent, you say? Shut up or I'll break your legs.

Those who only watched pro football from the safety of their stadium seats or big-screen TVs could never imagine the devastating power of enormous men running at speed into other enormous men. It was like being in a car accident over and over. It didn't merely hurt; it stunned. It shocked the body in so many different ways that one could never be the same afterward.

Rogers raised a fist to deliver a blow to the head that would have almost certainly killed the man. The spot on his head was burning like somebody had set it on fire with an acetylene torch.

Humans carried guns. And killed with malice, the only species that did.

There is a kind of white that is more than white, and this was that kind of white. There is a kind of white that repels everything that is inferior to it, and that is almost everything. This was that kind of white. There is a kind of white that is not created by bleach but that itself is bleach. This was that kind of white. This white was aggressively white.

There is a kind of white that is more than white, and this was that kind of white. There is a kind of white that repels everything that is inferior to it, and that is almost everything. This was that kind of white. There is a kind of white that is not created by bleach but that itself is bleach. This was that kind of white. This white was aggressively white. It did its work on everything around it, and nothing escaped.

Just who has imposed on the suffering human race poison gas, barbed wire, high explosives, experiments in eugenics, the formula for zyklon b, heavy artillery, pseudo-scientific justifications for mass murder, cluster bombs, attack submarines, napalm, intercontinental missiles , military space platforms and nuclear weapons? If memory serves it was not the Vatican.

We call this a "bow", Cap'n, and the thing that's sticking out of that fellow's head over on the other side of the trench is called an "arrow". If you put them together just right, they'll do all sorts of nice things to people who aren't nice.

All I'm saying is that it's shortsighted to blame TV. It's simply another symptom. TV didn't invent our aesthetic childishness here any more than the Manhattan Project invented aggression.

it occurred that the birds, whose twitters and repeated songs sounded so pretty and affirming of nature and the coming day, might actually, in a code known only to other birds, be the birds each saying 'Get away' or 'This branch is mine!' or 'This tree is mine! I'll kill you! Kill, kill!' Or any manner of dark, brutal, or self-protective stuff--they might be listening to war cries. The thought came from nowhere and made his spirits dip from some reason.

and suddenly it occurred to him that the birds, whose twitters and repeated songs sounded so pretty and affirming of nature and the coming day, might actually, in a code known only to other birds, be the birds each saying 'Get away' or 'This branch is mine!' or 'This tree is mine! I'll kill you! Kill, kill!' Or any other manner of dark, brutal, or self-protective stuff—they might be listening to war cries. The thought came from nowhere and made his spirits dip for some reason.

Genius is not replicable. Inspiration, though, is contagious, and multiform- and even just to see, close up, power and aggression made vulnerable to beauty is to feel inspired and (in a fleeting, mortal way) reconciled.

Of course, in men's sports no one ever talks about beauty, or grace, or the body. Men may profess their "love" of sports, but that love must always be cast and enacted in the symbology of war: elimination vs. advance, hierarchy of rank and standing, obsessive stats and technical analysis, tribal and/or nationalist fervor, uniforms, mass noise, banners, chest-thumping, face-painting, etc.

The top seed this weekend is Richard Krajicek,12 a 6?5? Dutchman who wears a tiny white billed hat in the sun and rushes the net like it owes him money and in general plays like a rabid crane.

John was up beside him and slashed out, the bottle smashing across the side of the man's head, shattering.