Quotes About Rage

I get in a temper with inanimate objects. I can't bear plastic. I do get in a complete rage with something that's been shrink-wrapped.

The man slumped forward on the table. "Saints and devils!" raged the Wolf. "What does he look like, this Kane?" "Like – Satan –" The voice trailed off in silence. The dead man slid from the table to lie in a red heap upon the floor. "Like Satan!" babbled the other bandit. "I told you! 'Tis the Horned One himself! I tell you –

It looked as if a night of dark intentWas coming, and not only a night, an age.Someone had better be prepared for rage.There would be more than ocean-water brokenBefore God's last Put out the Light was spoken.

A vast unfocused rage rose in her, against men who considered displays of emotion a delicious open door; men who ogled your breasts under the pretense of scanning the wine shelves; men for whom your mere physical presence constituted a lubricious invitation. Her

Strike had felt a variety of emotions which included guilt, gratitude, confusion, fear, rage, resentment and loneliness, but he couldn't remember feeling lucky. "Lucky" would have been the bomb not detonating. "Lucky" would have meant still having both his legs. "Lucky" was what people who couldn't bear to contemplate horrors needed to hear maimed and terrorized survivors call themselves.

A vast unfocused rage rose in her, against men who considered displays of emotion a delicious open door

A vast unfocused rage rose in her, against men who considered displays of emotion a delicious open door; men who ogled your breasts under the pretense of scanning the wine shelves; men for whom your mere physical presence constituted a lubricious invitation.

But the blues is a more sustained illumination, against the humiliation, rage, and sadness of life, and in turn invests the artist with not eternal youth but a scarred mortality, blessed with poetry.

What you will see, unless you know what to look for, is rage. But under the rage is a sense of worthlessness, of vulnerability and weakness, for behind the Tyrant lies the other pole of the King's bipolar shadow system, the Weakling. If he can't be identified with the King energy, he feels he is nothing.

So if meditation did liberate you from obedience to these feelings, it would be, in a certain sense, dispelling an illusion—the illusion you implicitly subscribe to when you follow the feeling, the illusion that the rage, and for that matter the revenge it inspires, is fundamentally "good." It turns out the feeling isn't even good in the basic sense of self-interest.

But I return to you now all that you did give me: all the rage and the terror, the pain and the hatred that should have been love. The nightmares and the waking dreams that are worse than nightmares because they are memories. These I return to you for I want them no more, and I will bear them not one whit of my time on this earth more.

Despair and idleness are dangerous companions in any culture, and it was inevitable that the young would search for a hero who could voice their longing for change and provide a focus for their rage.

In principle the most vulnerable, but he wasn't worried. Sheer rage would overcome any theoretical tactical disadvantage.

Didn't hurt him, because he was dead. So it must have gratified the kicker somehow. Unbelievable fury, tremendous strength. The injuries are grievous.

Men fight wars and destroy everything around them. The earth should open and swallow them up. He who does not value life does not deserve it. Never destroy another life through rage, or through malice.

Perhaps rage was an inextricable part of lesbian-feminism, because once these women analyzed the female's position in society they realized they had much to be furious about.

Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth learning in that narrow diary of my mind, in the commonplaces of the asylum where the cracked mirror or my own selfish death outstared me ... I tapped my own head; it was glass, an inverted bowl. It's a small thing to rage inside your own bowl. At first it was private. Then it was more than myself.

His face was terrifying in its stillness, with only his eyes alive, glittering with rage. She could feel the force of his anger in the coiled strength of his body, hear it in the almost inaudible softness of his tone. He wasn't a man who lost control in his anger; he gained it to an even greater degree.

Sometimes I think rage is like a furnace, and I've been angry for so many years now, I'm perpetually heated from the inside out.

Intense rage will normally make you stew instead of do when you encounter unfairness, and if you act while enraged you will often fight foolishly and badly.

When your heart begins to pound, your face gets hot, your thoughts race, your blood pressure skyrockets, and adrenaline surges through your body, you will seldom act in a rational way. Your rage may lead to a constant struggle to control your actions. Your fury itself may feel very uncomfortable and be a constant reminder that you are not dealing effectively with the world around you.

Grief and remorse, compassion and duty - all were forgotten now and, as it were, absorbed into an intense overpowering hatred of these less than human monsters. 'Don't you even understand what manhood and freedom are?' Rage was making him fluent; the words came easily, in a rush. 'Don't you?' he repeated, but got no answer to his question.

Sometimes Stuart seems like an irritable fisherman. He bobs about, on the disruption of his life, a small, unsteady figure, fishing for order. Then he gets into a rage, 'goes right on one', and it is as if he's taken out the gutting knife and mashed his catch to a pulp - every sign of hated, repressive, reminding order is gone again.

There were some things that one could stop, or try to stop, but it was a mistake to go through life trying to interfere in things that were beyond your control, or which were going to happen anyway, no matter what you did. A certain amount of acceptance—which was not the same thing as cowardice, or indifference—was necessary or you would spend your life burning up with annoyance and rage.