Quotes About Violence

This happens all the time," he said. "You know what I'm saying?" "What happens? "Murder." I was silent. "That's the thing about it. It never stops. Never.

The crime rates would go right down, I think, if Americans stopped saying: 'Have a nice day,' to one another. At least it would stop me from contemplating violence; when people in shops & so on order me to have a nice day in this authoritarian way, I want to kill, kill, kill. When I mutter 'sod off' under my breath, they think it is a Russian Orthodox benediction.

In this "land of the free" we are burned, tortured, and denied a fair trial, murdered for any imaginary wrong conceived in the brain of the negro-hating white man. There is no redress for us from a government which promised to protect all under its flag.

He's getting older," Charles said darkly. "Shall I hit him with my walker or my oxygen tank?

Ah, God, Lys" he breathed, and she opened her eyes to look up at him. She was the love of his heart, his true partner in both work and life, and the idea of losing her to the violence of the world they lived in scared the living shit out of him. But her smile lit her eyes, her face, and he pushed the darkness away and let himself grin back at her like the damn fool that he was. This moment-now-was perfect, and he wasn't going to let his fears interfere.

He pushed her down onto the floor, thrusting himself in front of her as he drew his gun from the back waistband of his jeans. Four to one, no six —shit, there were six gunmen! He might've been able to take four if he used up his life's allotment of miracles all at once, but six ! He'd have to fire first and keep firing even after he was hit.

I don't care if you got knocked up. I can still rip your throat out

It sends out a very clear message: "Mess with us and we'll do something worse than kill you. We'll kill your children.

The raw hunk of meat that used to be my enemy makes a sound, and I know where the mouth is. And I think the word he's trying to say is 'please'. Pity, not vengeance sends my arrow flying into his skull.

Maybe the other tributes are out there beating one another senseless. Which would be fine. - Katniss -

How much energy they put into harming each other. How little into saving.

The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.

I killed you. And you. And you.

And if even the most innocent among us turn to killers in the Hunger Games, what does that say? That our essential nature is violent," Snow explained. "Self-destructive," Dean Highbottom murmured

Behind a rack of framed photos of Snow, we encounter a wounded Peacekeeper propped up against a strip of brick wall. He asks us for help. Gale knees him in the side of the head and takes his gun.

It's one thing to speak of humans' essential nature theoretically, another to consider it when a fist is smashing into your mouth.

We're gonna kill you. Just like we did your pathetic little ally... what was her name? Rue? Well first Rue, then, you, and I think we'll just let nature take care of Lover Boy. How's that sound?

I'm not convinced that we are all as inherently violent as you say, but it takes very little to bring the beast to the surface, at least under the cover of darkness. I

The real sports of the Hunger Games is watching the tributes kill one another

If you hit flesh, you're rewarded with a burst of fake blood. Our dummies are soaked in red.

The Capitol has no end of creative ways to kill people. I imagine these things and I'm terrified, but let's face it: They've been lurking in the back of my brain, anyway. I've been a tribute in the Games. Been threatened by the president. Taken a lash across my face. I'm already a target.

A boy with a club who beats another boy to death. That's mankind in its natural state.

Four cables, attached to tracks on the buildings, break through the stones, dragging up the net that encases Mitchell. It makes no sense — how instantly bloodied he is — until we see the barbs sticking from the wire that encases him. I know it immediately. It decorated the top of the fence around 12.

Somehow it just won't seem sincere if I'm trying to slit his throat. The