Quotes About Violence

Chicago. It's insane and violent and corrupt and vital and artistic and noble and cruel and wonderful. It's full of greed and hope and hate and desire and excitement and pain and happiness. The air sings with screams and laughter, with sirens, with angry shouts, with gunshots, with music. It's an impossible city, at war with itself, every horrible and wonderful thing blending together to create something terrifying and lovely and utterly unique. I

Scars - the graffiti of violence. - Harry Dresden

A mangled corpse in the middle of a blood-drenched floor. Berserk FBI field agents drawing guns and shooting to kill. A little kung fu, a little John Wayne, and a few casual threats. So far, I thought, my nerves jangling, just one more night on the job.

bright, flowery plants... were busy committing the olfactory equivalent of aggravated assault.

Wizardry aside, it's tough to beat a gun for discouraging men with baseball bats.

Hell's bells, I snarled, taking an involuntary step back. Right here? Now? You could have given me a couple of minutes to get clear, dammit. And what fun would that be? Maeve asked, pushing out her lower lip in a pout. I am who I am, too. I love violence. I love treachery. I love your pain - and the best part, the part I love most, is that I am doing it for your own good. Her eyes gleamed white all the way around her irises. This is me being one of the good guys.

Mickey Mouse woke me up, my alarm jangling noisily, his little hand on two and the big hand on twelve. I wanted to smack the clock for waking me up, but I reined in the impulse. I'm not against a little creative violence now and then, but you have to draw the line somewhere. I wouldn't sleep in the same room with a person who would smack Mickey Mouse.

Littlemouse was in danger, doubtless a prisoner, and the humans could not be trusted to handle her rescue with appropriate violence. They might be willing to leave someone alive, and Rowl was not prepared to tolerate incompetence where his personal human was concerned. He had just gotten her properly trained.

Thwart," I said. "To prevent someone from accomplishing something by means of visiting gratuitous violence upon his smarmy person.

He had reduced violence in the streets—while sending the number of dollars made by criminals in this town soaring. He had protected the city's flesh while siphoning away its blood, poisoning its soul. It changed nothing, nothing at all.

When we get back, you and I are going to have a talk in which you lose your teeth," Antillus replied. "Because I'm going to knock them out of your head. With my fists." "I think we all understood what you meant at the end of your first sentence, dolt.

Blood was their art. Screams were their music. Horror was their faith.

There was a horrible, wrenching sound, a screech of protesting metal, and one of the screams peaked at a shivering, violent point—then dissolved into a strangled mishmash of sounds, of tearing and snapping and popping, of gurgling and thudding. And when they were finished, something, something big, with a cavernous, resonating chest, snarled from not ten feet beyond the security door.

In real life, the chair doesn't break when you slug somebody with it, the way it does in the movies. The person you hit is the one who breaks.

On either side of the double doors, someone had gone to a lot of trouble to plant and care for a half-dozen rosebushes. Someone else had gone to a lot of trouble to tear them to shreds.

And then the vast flaming axe crashed down into the ceiling above us and shattered the world.

Bob," I said. "You can't just go around killing people." "I know. That's why you should do it." "No, no. I can't go around killing people, either." "Why not? You've done it before. And you've got a new gun and everything.

Right. Looks like Mavra and her scourge are in town. One of them came pretty close to punching my ticket tonight." Bob's eyelights flickered with interest. "Neat. So the usual drill? Wait for them to try again so you can backtrack the attackers to Mavra?" "Not this time. I'm going to find them first, kick down their door, and kill them all in their sleep." "Wow. That's an atypically vicious plan, Harry." "Yeah. I liked it too.

And... this plague. What does it do? I asked. It changes that which ought not change, she said quietly. It destroys a father's love for his family by twisting it into maniacal ambition. It distorts and corrupts the good intentions of agents of mortal law into violence and death. It erodes the sensible fear that keeps the weakly talented sorcerer from reaching out for more power, no matter how terrible the cost.

A sonic boom crushes a baby mink's skull. We know that. Isn't it enough?

At heart he was a secret Quaker and football was pure violence. The coach was always telling him to "hit them harder." The coach wanted him to put opposing players "out of commission." He kept it to himself but wondered what the point of the "game" was if your intention was to hurt people badly.

damn the world and its wars, she thought. Those who start the wars never die in them. She packed hastily, had supper with Winnie

I know that it's easier to portray a world that's filled with cynicism and anger, where problems are solved with violence. What's a whole lot tougher is to offer alternatives, to present other ways conflicts can be resolved, and to show that you can have a positive impact on your world. To do that, you have to put yourself out on a limb, take chances, and run the risk of being called a do-gooder.

One of them would hurl a rock, then a few more. Suddenly it's raining rocks. Ya with me? That's their cover, see, because no matter how big a weapon you come out the door with, you still don't want to catch a rock in the face. A sawed-off won't stop a rock, follow?