Quotes About Violence

the thick stream of air hauled toward the summits first the great horses of noise reared against the sky then sluggishly the great limp octopus of smoke a derisory spitter injecting the night with the insolent perfume of a citronella lamp and a wind swept down on the islands to be riddled by the suspect violence of the locusts . . .

Cada dia que passa, cada denegação de justiça, cada repressão policial, cada reivindicação operária afogada em sangue, Cada escândalo sufocado, cada expedição punitiva, cada ônibus da Compañia Republicana de Seguridad, cada policial e cada miliciano, nos fazem sentir o preço de nossas ancestrais sociedades.

measured by the clock click of the serpent-minute the explosion after which it is proper to appreciate that the brutal fist of the terrorist crack of dawn has just planted at the top of the most forgotten poui its adornment of fire its dolmen of blood its flag of rage and renewal

There is not in the world one single poor lynched bastard, one poor tortured man, in whom I am not also murdered and humiliated.

But the work of man is only just beginning, and it remains to conquer all the violence entrenched in the recesses of our passions...and no race possesses the monopoly of beauty, of intelligence, of force. And there is a place for all at the rendezvous with victory.

C]olonization works to decivilize the colonizer, to brutalize him in the true sense of the word, to degrade him, to awaken him to buried instincts, to covetousness, violence, race hatred, and moral relativism.

The problem is that the Iraqi people are facing atrocities from both sides - Zarqawi and also the American troops at times. The Zarqawi groups uses car bombs, the Americans use other bombs. You also know what they do in the prisons.

All property which comes to hand by means of violence, or infamy, or baseness, however large it may be, is tainted and unblest. On the other hand, whatever is obtained by honest profit, small though it be, brings a blessing with it.*

There was a severed head, and two soft white forearms, and two long legs from the knees down, all laid out on the tile floor, with the hideous cuts of the saw clearly visible. The faucet was running, and the water had filled the bathtub and overflowed onto the floor. The long, luxuriant black hair on the bloated head twined and floated in the water like an undulant knot of snakes.

When she saw the severed head she fainted dead away. What can I say, she's a woman." "I don't know what it has to do with being a woman," Daiyu responded in a serious tone of voice. "I think anyone might faint at such a ghoulish sight. I mean, if this weren't our job, a few of us might be under a doctor's care right about now." The investigator looked properly chastened,

a tale of two brothers intent on killing each other. Kenzo couldn't help thinking that this terrible case was a reflection of the moral bankruptcy and spiritual corruption that followed the Second World War.

suppose a murderer carries a torso away from the scene of the crime. What does he do with the leftover bones and internal organs once he's stripped off the skin? Actually I must confess that it only just occurred to me now that this sort of problem—the efficient management of crime-related waste products—might be called 'criminal economics.

You can get a lot farther with a kind word and a gun than a kind word alone.

To tell the truth, girls are no longer the way they used to be. They play gangsters, nowadays, just like boys. They organize rackets. They plan holdups and practice karate. They will rape defenseless adolescents. They wear pants... Life has become impossible.

During the first day, curious at having outsiders among them, a long stream of inmates came over and talked with me. Remarkably, according to what they told me, nearly every inmate in the prison didn't do it. Several thousand people had been locked up unjustly and, by an incredible coincidence, all in the same prison. On the other hand, they knew an awful lot about how to knife somebody.

War is war and Hell is hell, and if you ask me, War is a lot worse.

My mother didn't try to stab my father until I was six.

The barbarian looter and the religious zealot are alike in their penchant for destroying what they don't understand.

So it's not that every second of my childhood was filled with doom. But every second was filled with the possibility that in an instant my father's mood would plunge into irrationality, rage, and ultimately violence. This very feeling, this possibility, is what darkens the part of my mind where my childhood stories live.

savaged him

They lined the men up against a wall in the assembly yard. Rat-tat-tat-tat! The watch officer gunned them down himself, riddling their bodies with bullets.

Then, after you have killed as many Americans as you can," Sano added, "you are to use the other grenade to kill yourself.

I'm saving it for the Krauts, fathead," Sid said. "I'm gonna kill the first German I see, and every single Kraut I meet from Normandy to Berlin.

What would happen, Reshmina wondered, if the big countries stopped selling weapons to the little countries?