Quotes About Violence

The lieutenant said, 'Have you seen enough?' speaking savagely, almost as though I had been responsible for these deaths. Perhaps to the soldier the civilian is the man who employs him to kill, who includes the guilt of murder in the pay-envelope and escapes responsibility.

He saw her fixed in her life like a fly in amber—Maria's hand raised to strike: Pedro talking prematurely in the dusk: and the police beating the forest—violence everywhere. He prayed silently, 'O God, give me any kind of death—without contrition, in a state of sin—only save this child.

The Church condemns violence, but it condemns indifference more harshly. Violence can be the expression of love, indifference never. One is an imperfection of charity, the other the perfection of egoism.

The cop rolled against the side of the corridor and slid to his knees, leaving a trail of fiercely burning blood on the wall. Then he collapsed and lay still, and in front of our eyes, to our overwhelming horror, the flames that were burning inside him gradually broke out, singeing and then setting fire to his uniform from inside, and then engulfing his whole body until he lay on the carpet blazing like a ritual suicide.

I couldn't think of one clever way to stop this guy, so I just trusted to mindless violence.

When drug dealers get killed—black or white—the public perception is that the victims simply got what was coming to them. When a young girl is raped and murdered—black or white—our knowledge of the primitive laws of attraction and male sexual dominance informs our response. But when middle-aged white people minding their own business are murdered in their home in the safest part of town, the fundamental order of Southern life is thrown out of balance.

masked man beats her with the bottle, which doesn't break, thank God. But then he rips off her panties and rapes her with it. Both holes. Serious trauma, but mostly in the back.

CNN, okay? They came at night and beat down the doors. All

This is a fairy tale of blood and bullets. The story of two women and three men who cannot die. Mostly. Their names are Andy, Nicky, Joe, Booker, and Nile. Nile joins them. Booker left them. This is what happens next...

Evan needed to get food, and then he had people to kill.

And he'd kill Lily Ann Denton, put her in the trunkm and go to arbys. God. he was hungry.

Their parents had killed multiple people. They'd done the most cruel and vile things anyone could do to another person. And so much of it had happened right before their eyes.

Some small towns are built on bloody earth and betrayal.

The Raymond Torture Killings

Her butt was all bloody.

I wonder how he'd feel if I cut off his nut sack and flung it against the cupboard door.

No lube needed, I just primed the pump," the man said. Everything that was happening to Celesta was beyond wrong, but what was happening now was beyond her comprehension. She screamed out in pain. "Shut up, bitch!" said the man who had raped her first. The other remained silent while violating Celesta with some kind of a cylindrical device. It was rigid, cool, not made of flesh. The

Our call is to trust that the foolishness of self-sacrificial love will overcome evil in the end. Our call is to manifest the beauty of a Savior who loves indiscriminately while revolting against all hatred and violence. This is the humble mustard seed revolution that will in the end transform the world.

The crucified Christ, in short, gives us the "Magic Eye" to discern him in the depths of even the most horrifically violent portraits of God.

The amount of force and violence necessary to board the train, for example was no less and no more than the amoount of politeness and consideration necessary to ensure that the cramped journey was as pleasant as possible afterwards. What is necessary? That was the unspoken but implied, and unavoidable question everywhere in India.

You can't serve God with a gun.

It was pretty depressing. There's a lot of people here who want the war to go on forever, and they don't give a shit who's getting killed or who's doing the killing.

At first, on that first journey out of the city into India, I found such sudden politeness infuriating after the violent scramble to board the train. It seemed hypocritical for them to show such deferential concern over a nudge with a foot when, minutes before, they'd all but pushed one another out of the windows.

Personality and personal identity are in some ways like co-ordinates on the street map drawn by intersecting relationships. We know who we are and define what we are by references to the people we love and our reasons for loving them. I was that point in space and time where Abdullah's wild violence intersected with Prabaker's happy gentleness