Quotes About Rage

I'm now writing out of rage — and I feel a kind of Nietzschean elation. It's tonic. I roar with laughter. I want to denounce everybody, tell everybody off. I go to my typewriter as I might go to my machine gun. But I'm safe. I don't have to face the consequences of 'real' aggressivity. I'm sending out colis piégés ['booby-trapped packages'] to the world.

So, on top of the betrayal, I got to feel ashamed. I got to hate myself, when the rage of Medea would have served me better; but I was ever a stranger to rage.

If this is your path, as it is mine, let me offer whatever solace you may find in this monstrous benediction: May you discover the enlivening power of darkness within yourself. May it nourish your rage. May your rage inform your actions, and your actions transform you as you struggle to transform your world.

The heart is a fist. It pockets prayer or holds rage.

Que mes seins te provoquent Je veux ta rage. Je veux voir tes yeux s'épaissir Tes joues blanchir en se creusant. Je veux tes frissons. Que tu éclates entre mes cuisses Que mes désirs soient exaucés sur le sol fertile De ton corps sans pudeur.

The man of method may channel all his spiritual currents towards productive ends, be relentless in his suppression of predilection and propensity, but when accident upsets the flow of his life, he finds himself drowning in a sea of tedium, hatred, and rage.

with all the bad news expunged? Mallarino had never been able to understand that: for him it was the indignation or rage or hatred that kept him alive. How could anyone renounce the intense feeling of superiority one feels when hating someone? It was the emotion that made mornings make sense.

And so I wrote. With slavering gusts of animal rage, I wrote- howling like a wolf, bellowing like a patchwork creature composed of stinking corpse parts, my monster face distorted with fury, my skin straining against the crude black stitches that affixed it to the pulsing musculature beneath. I was alive! Every nerve within me sparked with rage

hear the storm raging, could still see

you seemed far too familiar with violence. It was too easy for you. The way you drew your gun ... You'd had far too much experience with it." He leaned forward, his eyes burning into hers. "What I felt in that moment was far from familiar. It was rage, Elizabeth, pure and primitive, and quite unlike anything that's ever before coursed through my veins.

Anthony could actually feel the tips of his ears turning red with barely leashed rage. "You, madam, are a menace to society." She opened her mouth as if to return the insult, but instead she just offered him an almost frighteningly devious smile and turned to the dog and said, "Shake, Newton.

Which is another example of jealousy not panning out as expected; for in this story, actual humanity triumphed over rage an hatred, something we hardly imagine in our wildest hopes.

About violence, what it feels like to be nothing to someone else. What it feels like to be a consequence of someone else's dissociated rage, disconnected fury.

Take away his guns and he will use a sword. Take away his sword and he will use a club. Take away his club and he will use a rock. When you take away a culture's soul, there is nothing to stop the evil that lurks in human's heart. You can outlaw guns, swords, clubs and rocks but without the Gospel we are all still broken and angry men filled with hatred and rage.

Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.

Happiness? Do not make me laugh. The rich are not happy. I have yet to meet a single really rich happy man or woman—and I have met many rich people. The demands from others to share their wealth become so tiresome, and so insistent, they nearly always decide they must insulate themselves. Insulation breeds paranoia and arrogance. And loneliness. And rage that you have only so many years left to enjoy rolling in the sand you have piled up.

I am not good. Something in Faith's head broke free, beating black wings into the sky. Nobody good could feel what I feel. I am wicked and deceitful and full of rage. I cannot be saved. She did not feel hot or helpless any more. She felt the way snakes looked when they moved.

Was this Faith, the good girl? The girl in the mirror was capable of anything. And she was anything but good, that much could be seen at a glance. I am not good. Something in Faith's head broke free, beating black wings into the sky. Nobody good could feel what I feel. I am wicked and deceitful and full of rage. I cannot be saved. She did not feel hot or helpless any more. She felt the way snakes looked when they moved.

In Selphin's gaze, Hark saw desperation, terror, rage, and a will as relentless as winter. He had just enough time to realize how wrong he was before she turned and jumped.

Bear] was curious and patient, but his fear could whip-crack into rage in an instant.

I believe I've passed the age of consciousness and righteous rage. I've found that just surviving is a noble fight. I once believed in causes too; I had my pointless points of view. And life went on no matter who as wrong or right.

She only felt revulsion for any kind if religious fundamentalists. The very thought if such people's intolerant worldview, their inflated sense of their own superiority, and thei callous imposition of their own beliefs on others was enough to fill her with rage.

The very thought of such people's intolerant worldview, their inflated sense of self superiority, and their callous imposition of their own beliefs on others was enough to fill her with rage.

There is nothing as frustrating as being consumed with rage over someone and knowing that you aren't even on their mind. You want your enemy to be engaged in a struggle until the death with you. Otherwise you are fighting yourself. I mean we are all essentially only in wars against ourselves, but we don't like it to be so painfully obvious.