Best 265 quotes in «rebel quotes» category

Little known fact: When you get really scared and too many scary things happen at once, you can leave your body. I don’t know if it’s your soul or your consciousness or what, but you can literally float up in the air over your body and watch what it’s doing.

Next Wednesday is part of our routine, another chance to spend lunch hour doing it somewhere else in Kim's immaculate house. Maybe on the white leather couch next time, the one she loves too much to even let me sit on.

My life. My choice. Live life only once. So to hell with the world

Nights are rebellious, they only demand the truth

Making-out is one thing that won’t change even if civilization fizzles and humanity is reduced to two people. So each time Jack and I kiss, it’s as if we’re flipping off the jerks who destroyed our planet, as if we’re screaming at the top of our lungs… We know your secret. And we won’t be made invisible.

May be the power lies in the hands of the one who holds the gun... so he just presses the trigger whenever the slightest streak of anger passes his mind... and after a few haunting days he roams freely in the country without fear .. and what about the one who faces the wrath and bears the bullets? He leaves a movement behind... but haven't such movements always been ephemeral? Is death the price you need to pay to open the eyes of those who care but just for a couple of days?

My generation failed to change the world, but at least I did not let the world change me.

Negative people will always be there to stain your pure image with their dirty tongues and brushes, but you'll always remain as white as snow, no matter how high the quality of paint they use.

- Nie jesteś zły, Marcinie... A więc jednak wyjęła z mojej kieszeni to, co tak bardzo chciałem w niej mieć.

Obedience is the virtue that determines whether a person is either a servant or a rebel. Life of integrity is built on obedience of God's statutes and nothing else.

On the path to Conquer the throne, some of your pawns must die... If your eyes aim the big kill, you must learn to eat humble pie.

Oh you rebel you!

One minute, I'm a tragically average, fair and freckled eighth-grader with algebra homework. The next, I'm one who has swallowed liquor. I'm a rebel. I'm a line-crosser.

Only for a minute. I'll be right back." He plopped the baby in her lap and hopped to his feet. Wren held her at arm's length and frowned. She did not appreciate that, because she immediately began wailing. "Here," Wren said, thrusting her in my direction. "Take the mutant baby.

Originals cost more than imitations.

Pseudo-artists think that being an artist means opposing whatever seems to be an establishment. That is not creative at all. True creativity is the ability to gain perspective wherever you may have missed it before.

Save the drama for the queens. Stand alone be a wolf, a rebel, a warrior, a savage, a badass. Be anything but a damn drama queen!

Rebels aren't persuaded by arguments such as 'People are counting on you,' 'You've already paid for it'...'Things should be done this way,' 'You have an appointment,' 'You said you'd do it'...'It's against the rules,' 'It's a tradition,' 'This is the deadline,' or 'It's rude.' They're much more apt to respond to being told 'This will be fun,' 'This is what *you* want'...Rebels can do anything they *want* to do.

Repression. Her therapist, Dr. Solomon, loved the word. He'd say it slowly, letting it roll off his tongue. Sometimes he'd add a chin stroke for good measure. He always looked pleased when he did this, like he'd discovered the Caramilk secret or something.

Setting fire to the roofs, getting away with the loot, suiting herself. She studied modern philosophy, read Sartre on the side, smoked Gitanes, and cultivated a look of bored contempt. But inwardly, she was seething with unfocused excitement, and looking for someone to worship.

Shake off the tonnage of old genetics, nitpicking naysayers and hand-me-down Egos hoarding junk in the back of your mind. Be a Friday night liberty set loose on Monday morning.

She looked mean, but I think that was her natural resting face.

She had applied to college without her parents' knowledge, and when she got her choral scholarship she broke from childhood, choosing music as her religion. Emily and Jess pressed him, but they didn't understand. Their mother's life began when she came up to Cambridge on her own. "It's like a fairyland here," she used to say, when they walked through the ancient cloisters. She was a quiet rebel, buying a Liberty-dress pattern and sewing her own gown for the Emmanuel College ball, dancing until dawn, and then slipping barefoot onto the velvet lawns reserved for Fellows. As a soprano she sang for services and feasts. As an adventurer, she tried champagne for the first time and pork loin and frog's legs.

Sudah gue bilang: punk is only hibernating, not dead!

So Artichoke was a restaurant borne out of impulse and recklessness. Four years on, it’s also a testament to how an enterprise started on such a fucked up approach can actually succeed.

Soon you shall be landing In the battleground, ensure you have the right weapons to fight the enemy; ensure you know your enemy and what he is capable of; take them unprepared to gain the victory and stand with your head held high; show it to the world the cause you have been fighting for, deception is the key, challenge your enemy when it is least expected; break them mentally before breaking them physically. You are a soldier; your enemy is a soldier and you are facing the best, both sides have a lot of similarities only variation lies in the cause. Cause is driver for the battle; cause is binding comrades together and even if the victory is gained the cause stays undefeated. You stand defeated for your strategy, tactics and leaders but never for the cause, it’s still alive, it shall always be alive with the men who have sacrificed their lives, with the men who are still alive. They stand defeated with the physical strength but not for the cause they have believed in and you can never take it away from them. Fight for a cause and you shall stay invincible. A war story is always biased towards one side and it’s hard to narrate a true war story. We choose and make our heroes from what we have read, heard and believed in. If we know the cause both sides are standing for, it will become difficult to take sides. Always respect your enemy, respect for the fact they are standing neck to neck with you, respect them for the courage they have shown to defend the other side, their land, respect them for whatever you have earned the respect for from your men, from your country and from your people. Powerful strategies, tactics, weapons, leaders are allies to the war, they support but never claims victory all my themselves Greatest wars won always had the greater cause. Rebel without a cause is never a rebel just an aimless person whose fate lies in the defeat.

Strike two. Add dumb as a box of rocks to the list of why I don't like these guys. I got to my feet, deciding to play nice. After all, they were just poor dumb guys who couldn't help it that there weren't enough brains in their genes.

Sometimes, dreaming is in and of itself an act of rebellion.

The blasphemy is reverent, since every blasphemy is, ultimately, a participation in holiness.

Thanks to Karen Connelly who read earlier versions of this manuscript and to Ronald Hatch my editor and publisher.

That was when things got weird. You may have thought things were weird already, but this was uber-weird

The harder the push, the greater the Rebel push-back. I laughed when a Rebel friend told me, 'No one can tell me to do anything. I recently got an email saying "Please read" in the subject line, and I immediately deleted it.

The most serious will miss heaven, the unserious rebel will repent in the last hour.

The only evidence to the contrary was the mute protest in your own bones, the instinctive feeling that the conditions you lived in were intolerable and that at some other time they must have been different.

There comes a time we must rebel against the no’s, rejections, or disappointments we experience so to make things happen in our lives.

The rebel inside of me always ignored the rules.

There is this common notion that people are shallow and ignorant until they go out and see the world. I, on the other hand, went out and in comparison realized I was in pretty good standing.

The sea loved the moon When she was supposed to love the shore. The moon knew And hence made his intentions known. That she should love the shore Who was destined for her. Yet his protests seemed weak. And even when he pushed her towards the shore- She always retreated back. To want, to need, to love the moon For all she's worth. Everyone said, it wasn't meant to happen. Yet, the Tsunami rose that night for their union.

This was never your destiny," he snapped, glaring at me with devilish eyes. "No," I replied casually, shrugging, "but it's the path I've chosen.

Time and time over it is the ones who try a little too hard to be innovative rebels - and for the sheer glory of being considered innovative rebels - who then turn out not quite as innovative or as rebellious as they would like to think they are.

Time is a hard-hearted rebel, we cannot fight him or can we beg him to slow down, wait for us or stop, all we have to do is to obey his strict rules, follow him and run, he doesn't get tired, and we musn't get tired too.

To reject the word of God is to rebel against righteous life.

We are all the products and victims of our own upbringing, until we reflect, refuse, and rebel.

the dandy can only play a part by setting himself up in opposition. He can only be sure of his own existence by finding it in the expression of others’ faces. Other people are his mirror. A mirror that quickly becomes clouded, it is true, since human capacity for attention is limited. It must be ceaselessly stimulated, spurred on by provocation. The dandy, therefore, is always compelled to astonish. Singularity is his vocation, excess his way to perfection. Perpetually incomplete, always on the fringe of things, he compels others to create him, while denying their values. He plays at life because he is unable to live it. He plays at it until he dies, except for the moments when he is alone and without a mirror. For the dandy, to be alone is not to exist. The romantics talked so grandly about solitude only because it was their real horror, the one thing they could not bear.

The family is one of the greatest traps that society has used for millennia to keep man a slave

The love and compassion of Jesus christ is not understood and felt by devils.

The master of the world, after his legitimacy has been contested, must be overthrown. Man must occupy his place. “As God and immortality do not exist, the new man is permitted to become God.” But what does becoming God mean? It means, in fact, recognizing that everything is permitted and refusing to recognize any other law but one’s own. Without it being necessary to develop the intervening arguments, we can see that to become God is to accept crime (a favorite idea of Dostoievsky’s intellectuals).

The rebel in me never really had died. She just needed some time off and a reason to come back to work.

They think I’m not entirely ‘grounded in reality’, they say. They want me to go to some live-in nerdy activity ranch thing for troubled Canadian youth, that one out in Ontario where you come back programmed like some robot, dressed in a tye-dyed shirt and eating tuna sandwiches,” Mandy explained, a horrified look on her face. “You’re eighteen, not twelve! Would they really send you to some rat’s nest like that?” Wendy questioned in mock horror. “Aw hell no, if you get sent there, they’ll make you hold hands and sing songs about caring! And they’ll force you to recycle everything in blue canisters, and to discuss your emotions in front of groups of bratty little dopes!” “Dear god, they’ll have geeky youth wiener roasts at night, and no locks on the doors!” Mandy added, eyes wide. “…It’ll be the day pigs fly, my parents have the camp brochure on the fridge but they’ll never go through with sending me there. They always forget.

This was a true pants-pooping moment.