Quotes About Violence

The Church squashed in blood Albigensian and Arian heresies, destroyed Druids and other non-Christian cults in Europe, baptized Slavs and Balts by fire and sword; do you think it wouldn't have been able to eliminate the Jews if it had wished to? The concept of 'racial segregation' was totally foreign to Christianity

COMPARISON IS AN ACT OF VIOLENCE AGAINST THE SELF

Comparison is an act of violence against the self. It also leads to judgments and jealousy of those we deem "better off" than we are. If we aren't the ones doing the comparing, then we're the ones against whom other women measure themselves. In either case, the comparison, judgments, and jealousy can lead to ugly behavior.

What is it that frightens you, Councillor Maximov? When you read about Karamzin or Karamzov or whatever his name is, when Karamzin's skull is cracked open like an egg, what is the truth: do you suffer with him, or do you secretly exult behind the arm that swings the axe? You don't answer? Let me tell you then: reading is being the arm and being the axe and being the skull; reading is giving yourself up, not holding yourself at a distance and jeering.

I behave in some ways like a lover - I undress her, I bathe her, I stroke her, I sleep beside her - but I might equally well tie her to a chair and beat her, it would be no less intimate.

Vocês são todos uma e a mesma espécie, têm os mesmos objectivos, os mesmos sonhos, os mesmos medos... Comem a mesma comida, dormem o mesmo sono... Por isso vão contra a vossa natureza quando se dividem para tornar mais fácil matarem-se uns aos outros. Países, bairros, credos, nomes, partidos, clube. Vocês matam-se uns aos outros por um par de ténis.

Butch tightened his grip on his cell and wished there were an app that let you reach through a phone and bitch slap someone.

If you tried to touch my woman she'd break your dick off like a twig then stick it up your arse.

Fine, you do that, and you tell them that at the very first opportunity, I'm coming down there and killing all of them. Mass murder. And after they're all dead, I'm going to kick the bodies around, dance on top of them, and sing a happy song. No jury will convict me.

Drop the fucking weapon, you fucking motherfucker or I'll fucking scramble your fucking brains. Hands up! Hands where I can fucking see them, you fucking cocksucker. You fucking breathe wrong, you fucking blink wrong, and I will fuck you up. Fucker. Jacobsen snarled it as he shoved Marcell to the ground. On your fucking face, you fucking shit coward. Stream my lieutenant in the fucking back? Fuck you.

I will give you more pain than you can imagine. Your brains will leak out of your ears, and your bowels out of your ass. I will cause that to happen without leaving a mark, and every cop here will swear you died of natural causes.

He wanted to heave the glasses against the wall. Break them, break everything he could reach. Beat it, rend it. He stared out the window, imagined the city in flames, consumed to ashes. And still it wasn't enough.

Let me help you. Roarke bent down, lifted Rockman by the lapels. He jerked the man up, steadied him. Look at me, Rockman. Vision clear? Rockman blinked blood out of his eyes. I can see you. Good. Roarke's arm shot up, quick as a bullet, and his fist connected with Rockman's already battered face. Oops, Feeney said mildly, when Rockman crumbled to the floor again.

She stuffed in more waffles, and thought if every day started off with sex and waffles, people would maybe be less inclined to kill each other.

Murder doesn't leave anyone innocent. It shouldn't.

To have birthed and bred her, beaten and raped her all for selling her to other scum. What god made such creatures as that and set them to prey on innocents?

Bet you didn't see that coming," she murmured. "I didn't, no. If I'd realized rapping your head would turn you into an insatiable sexual maniac who'd use me so brutally, I'd have cold-cocked you long before this.

Drop the fucking weapon, you fucking motherfucker or I'll fucking scramble your fucking brains. Hands up! Hands where I can fucking see them, you fucking cocksucker. You fucking breathe wrong, you fucking blink wrong, and I will fuck you up.

Poison's generally a woman's weapon." "Sexist." "Statistics," she countered.

She curled up beside him, realizing they both needed this space of intimacy as much as they'd needdd the reassurance and release. Her world had been rocked. She only understood how violent the shake had been now that it was stead again.

He knows his father started him on the path of, let's say circumventing the law. That he has a predisposition for violence. He learned how to channel it, as you did. He had a goal – to get out, to have means and power. He accomplished that. Then he found you. He understands where he came from, and I imagine it's part of his pride that he became the kind of man a woman like you would love.

Violence is as American as cherry pie.   —RAP (HUBERT GEROLD) BROWN

She was a cop, a Homicide lieutenant with eleven years on the job protecting and defending the hard, merciless streets of New York. There was little she hadn't seen, touched, smelled, or waded through. Because people, to her mind, would always and could always find more inventive and despicable ways to kill their fellow man, she knew just what torments could be inflicted on the human body. But bloody and brutal murder was nothing compared to giving birth.

When we get him," Eve continued, "it's going to come out that she—this symbol—knocked him around or boo-hoo broke his heart or made him feel weak and helpless. So his defense lawyers will come along saying: Oh, he was damaged, poor sick son of a bitch. He's not responsible. And that's a pile of shit, that's a big, smelly pile of bullshit. Because nobody's responsible for choking the life out of Elisa Maplewood but him. Nobody.