Quotes About Rage

Cooper spun on his heel and walked away. He walked without direction or purpose, without thought or plan. His companions were Frustration and Rage, and together the three of them stalked Manhattan.

At that, the old hag flew into such a rage she burst into pieces on the spot, and the princess with the long nose did the same right after her, and the whole pack of trolls right after that. At least I haven't heard a word about them since.

Eartha Kitt singing "Santa Baby" in that languid voice of hers, the purring of a feline underlaid with rebel cries, sure it would have been nice for her just to be the little kitten she looked like so she could get her black voice listened to, the black rage of South Carolina plantations where she'd been raped by a white farmer, that's what Robbie was going to sing tonight,

The agony of my feelings allowed me no respite; no incident occurred from which my rage and misery could not extract its food.

Anger is a short madness.

Anger is a killing thing: it kills the man who angers for each rage leaves him less than he had been before-it takes something from him.

The personality susceptible to the dream of limitless freedom is a personality also prone, should the dream ever sour, to misanthropy and rage.

Maxine," Grant said, but I barely heard him. I was lost in that vision, in those emotions—the pain, and hunger for pain, forming the root of so much agonized rage. " 'Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate,'" I muttered. "Yoda, from Star Wars?" " 'Hate leads to suffering.'" I met his gaze. "Yoda knows his shit, man." Grant's mouth crooked in a gentle smile.

Nearly all the violence that we hear about in the media is triggered by rage, and more specifically, by impotent rage. Impotent rage results when a person feels rejected and humiliated by people and feels powerless to do anything about it. Having few effective internal coping skills, the person explodes and lashes out at the world.

And what about the person who's on the defensive? Initially, this human punching bag is frustrated because no matter what he or she is trying to mirror outward——I'm sorry, I'm confused, I'm scared, I had a good reason for what I did—the ignorant blamer is blind to it. As a result, the person who's under attack is usually in a state of quiet, barely controlled rage.

Now, the Wyrm rises To eclipse the Moon Devouring all within its grasp, Hunting the hunters. There is no garden to which we can flee. There is nowhere to hide. The end is upon us. — When will you rage?

Yes, Louise Brooks was beautiful and intelligent, and she could be very funny, but obviously there was a deep insecurity there, a real destructive rage and immaturity.

The rage that had expolded inside me diffused. I didn't know where it had come from. I had a short temper and often acted impulsively, but this had been intense and ugly even for me. Weird.

Poncho was in a red mood slanging with rage and needed to cook himself out of it, while shoving handfuls of salted peanuts down his gullet and slurping ice cold Fanta

Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.

You think it horrible that lust and rage Should dance attendance upon my old age; They were not such a plague when I was young; What else have I to spur me into song?

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

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Adversity is the first path to truth; He who hath proved war, storm, or woman's rage, Whether his winters be eighteen or eighty, Has won the experience which is deemed so weighty.

We answer rage with wisdom. We answer fear with imagination. We answer war with hope. We are, each of us, important.

We are Alderaan. We answer rage with wisdom. We answer fear with imagination. We answer war with hope. We are, each of us, important

Meanwhile, I watch and work up my rage at men, who can be villainous to all, but virtuous to some. Watching them be kind to children should make me think of them as better men, but it make them worse, for no other wicked is more wicked than choosing with who you dole out kindness.

I will murder the world.

Unless under the spell of a psychotic delusion, extreme rage, inescapable deprivation, drugs, or a destructive authority figure, a person who is conscience-bound does not—in some sense he cannot—kill or rape in cold blood, torture another person, steal someone's life savings, trick someone into a loveless relationship as sport, or willfully abandon his own child. Could you?