Quotes About Violence

The kitchen lights came on, revealing two goons behind the bald guy. Younger guys who were also dressed entirely in black. The one on the left had one of those ridiculous curved collectors' knives, the kind they sell on the Home Shopping Network that looked like they're used to skin buffalo. Glinting in the overhead florescence, it didn't look ridiculous at all. His partner had opted for the maniac implement de jour—a sixteen inch chainsaw.

I am going to make you hurt so badly you'll wish your mother had been skinned alive by your father before they had a chance to conceive you.

Let me tell you what happens when you burn a person's body, pull out all of his teeth, glue his head to a plate, and shove a bomb in his ear. You become that person's object of undying hatred.

I am writing this sitting in the waterlogged lobby of a rotting, half-finished condominium complex. I am surrounded by cavorting freshwater seals and have two pearl-handled revolvers in my lap, a bottle of vodka in my right hand, a human body in the freezer in the kitchens behind me, and a rather large displaced rockhopper penguin staring me in the face.

I mourned the child I had known who was kind and sweet and curious, and yet could not stop killing.

Peace would always be less compelling than war. Perhaps that was why there was so little of it in the world. (p. 160)

The goal of the torturer is to make the one, the body, emphatically and crushingly present by destroying it, and to make the other, the voice, absent by destroying it.

Una ola de ira inundo mis calles y mis cielos vacíos. Esa ola que no se ve y que de pronto avanza, derriba puentes, muros, quita vidas y hace generales.

Anger can be a problem if you find yourself on the receiving end of it. Because you witnessed violent anger, you expect all arguments or expressions of angry feelings to result in violence. This is simply not the case. Many of you grew up without a middle ground for expressing anger - it was either not expressed, or exploded into violence. A middle ground is safe anger expression. (See Chapter VI).

A murder shared with many others, which is not only safe and permitted, but indeed recommended, is irresistible to the great majority of men.

The crowd is the same everywhere, in all periods and cultures; it remains essentially the same among men of the most diverse origin, education and language. Once in being, it spreads with the utmost violence. Few can resist its contagion; it always wants to go on growing and there are no inherent limits to its growth. It can arise wherever people are together, and its spontaneity and suddenness are uncanny.

Disgust at collective killing is of very recent date and should not be over-estimated. Today everyone takes part in public executions through the newspapers. Like everything else, however, it is more comfortable than it was. We sit peacefully at home and, out of a hundred details, can choose those to linger over which offer a special thrill. We only applaud when everything is over and there is no feeling of guilty connivance to spoil our pleasure.

WyobraziÅ' sobie Å›lady swoich palców na jej pyzatym, tÅ'ustym, lÅ›niÄ…cym policzku. Ale z jakiej racji jeden policzek miaÅ'by by? uprzywilejowany. Nale?aÅ'oby bi? obiema rÄ™kami naraz. JeÅ›li nie utrafi, czerwone prÄ™gi bÄ™dÄ… z jednej strony wy?ej, z drugiej ni?ej. To byÅ'oby brzydkie. Studium chiÅ"skiej sztuki wyrobiÅ'o w nim namiÄ™tne zamiÅ'owanie do symetrii.

It is those who devote themselves to killing who have power.

Never again becomes more than a slogan: It's a prayer, a promise, a vow. There will never again be hatred, people say. Never again jail and torture. Never again the suffering of innocent people, or the shooting of starving, frightened, terrified children. And never again the glorification of base, ugly, dark violence. It's a prayer.

We must choose between the violence of adults and the smiles of children, between the ugliness of hate and the will to oppose it. Between inflicting suffering and humiliation on our fellow man and offering him the solidarity and hope he deserves. Or not.

Violence is not the answer. Terrorism is the most dangerous of answers.

So many crazed men, so many cries, so much bestial brutality.

How are we ever to disarm evil and abolish death as a means to an end? How are we ever to break the cycle of violence and rage? Can terror coexist with justice? Does murder call for murder, despair for revenge? Can hate engender anything but hate?

How are we ever to disarm evil and abolish death as a means to an end? How are we ever to break the cycle of violence and rage? Can terror coexist with justice? Does murder call for murder, despair for revenge? Can hate engender anything but hate? The

he slapped my father with such force that he fell down and then crawled back to his place on all fours. I stood petrified. What had happened to me? My father had just been struck, in front of me, and I had not even blinked. I had watched and kept silent. Only yesterday, I would have dug my nails into this criminal's flesh. Had I changed that much? So fast?

There is nothing sacred, nothing uplifting, in hatred or in death. In this story, which calls religious and cultural ideas into question, I evoke the ultimate violence: murder. It aims to put on guard all of those who, in the name of their faith or of some ideal, commit cruel acts of terrorism against innocent victims. And yet

An act so absolute as that of killing involves not only the killer but, as well, those who have formed him. In murdering a man I was making them murderers.

Don't you know them? They don't need Jews to unleash a pogrom against Jews.