Best 339 quotes in «rage quotes» category

The only thing required of you is to allow all your raging desires to relax into preferences. Then everything will be done through you and for you, not by you.

The quarrels of friends are the opportunities of foes.

There are all sorts of shades of gray when you're working on economic policy and tax policy and health care policy. There's no gray on this issue, to me. This is a gun lobby that is raging out of control, that doesn't even represent its own members.

The reflex of fear was soon replaced with another, more useful emotion. Rage.

The whole of organic nature on our planet exists only by a relentless war of all against all. ... The raging war of interests in human society is only a feeble picture of an unceasing and terrible war of existence which reigns throughout the whole of the living world.

There's a sort of rage a man feels when he's been deceived where he most trusted. It compares to no other anger.

To be angry is easy. But to be angry with the right man at the right time and in the right manner, that is not easy.

This violent rage that turned inward cannot be helped by drink.

Waking love suffereth no sleepe: Say, that raging love dothe appall the weake stomacke: Say, that lamenting love marreth the musicall.

Unwanted honking not only irritates others, but may also end up causing accidents. Drivers lose cool and it may result in road rage.

To kill someone, even treacherously is more manly than to wound a friend by betraying his confidence.

To rage and mock is gentlemanly, to grumble and whine is not.

Were Guilt is, Rage and Courage doth abound.

We are not accountable for the sins of "Adam".

When a woman loves you she's not satisfied until she possesses your soul. Because she's weak, she has a rage for domination, and nothing less will satisfy her.

We tried not to age, but time had its rage.

What she had believed was indignation or rage or a deep intolerance for injustice came down to this: she was irreducibly in love with this bewitching planet, this thrilling life, this heartbreaking species she belonged to, with its capacity for stupefying destruction and breathtaking magnanimity.

While he was drunk asleep, or in his rage, or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed.

When your rage is choking you, it is best to say nothing.

You can indulge your righteous rage but the things it comes out of are pretty cheap. The trick is to make yourself an instrument of your own policy. Whether you like it or not, that's the highest effectiveness man has achieved.

Women are affected by lunar tides only once a month; men have raging hormones every day.

You have a right to be angry, but you mustn't turn that anger back on yourself because that only compounds the damage which has already been done. You must turn the anger outwards.

You know what's the rage this year? ...Hats.

You know that sadness and rage you feel about your money? That's the way some of us feel about people.

About time,” Brianna said. “Hey, sorry, we were kind of busy,” Quinn snapped. “And I didn’t exactly realize I was on a schedule.” “I don’t like what I have to do here,” Brianna said. She handed Quinn the note. He read it. Read it again. “Is this some kind of joke?” he demanded. “Albert’s dead,” Brianna said. “Murdered.” “What?” “He’s dead. Sam and Dekka are off in the wilderness somewhere. Edilio’s got the flu, he might die, a lot of kids have. A lot. And there are these, these monsters, these kind of bugs . . . no one knows what to call them . . . heading toward town.” Her face contorted in a mix of rage and sorrow and fear. She blurted, “And I can’t stop them!” Quinn stared at her. Then back at the note. He felt his contented little universe tilt and go sliding away. There were just two words on the paper: “Get Caine.

Aggression like this demanded slinging the first punch in a bar brawl, firing rounds at a range, or setting a car on fire.

A calm ocean is still greater than a raging sea.

A life of madness I have been living for fifteen years. I have thrown away everything I had, my devoted wife, two lovely children, my family, my wealth on a hopeless passion. My love that once glowed like a warm flame is gone. A fire burns inside me now. My love, instead of being upheld has been cast aside like dirt. I can weep all I want out of rage and self-loathing but the world will only laugh at the sight of me.

A leader or president that never rebukes violence, is like one that takes utter pride in it's rage

All reality about me now appeared to be in tatters, taken down and reduced to the civil war of its particles. I held on very, very tight indeed. Because in addition to that feeling, that disintegration, there was rage. I wanted to break something.

Fear and anxiety affect decision making in the direction of more caution and risk aversion... Traumatized individuals pay more attention to cues of threat than other experiences, and they interpret ambiguous stimuli and situations as threatening (Eyesenck, 1992), leading to more fear-driven decisions. In people with a dissociative disorder, certain parts are compelled to focus on the perception of danger. Living in trauma-time, these dissociative parts immediately perceive the present as being "just like" the past and "emergency" emotions such as fear, rage, or terror are immediately evoked, which compel impulsive decisions to engage in defensive behaviors (freeze, flight, fight, or collapse). When parts of you are triggered, more rational and grounded parts may be overwhelmed and unable to make effective decisions.

All this. They have all this, and what do we get? Walls and tickets and concrete and stink. Rations and hopelessness and rage. I hate them,” she said, the malice in her words like the lingering taste of a bad kiss.

And what was really mine? A handful of rupees and a mind packed tight with rage.

Anger is loud, rage is deafening, and wrath is thunderous; only love can silence them.

Anger is so easy to get into and so hard to get out of.

A person's true character lies somewhere until after you might have pressed the wrong button without knowing, then you'll realize that there are dogs in human form.

Beware of those who don't fight back. Sooner or later, they will.

Both the suicidal and non-suicidal are often angry with others. One way to discharge this anger is to fantasize about violent revenge. The insults of daily life often cause fantasies of revenge to flare up and quickly subside. The people with these fantasies usually do not act on them; they are not motives or goals. They are involuntary responses to perceived insult—ways of coping with rage. The suicidal, whether or not they attempt, suffer tremendous and persistent pain and anger. That this pain should find its way into their fantasies and dreams is no surprise. This ideation is not a motive for action; it is an alternative to action. Fantasizing about suicide is an effort to delay or avoid suicide, not the activity of formulating a motive, goal, or intention. Fantasies doubtlessly succeed in preventing many attempts.

Broken people are the most dangerous...because they just don't give a fuck

But hatred and rage solve nothing. Like a might fire, they quickly consume whatever is fed them.Yet it can't last. Soon enough, they devour all around them and burn out, leaving nothing but a hollowed shell no longer capable of feeling anything at all. (First Guardian)

But I don’t panic. I don’t bolt like a frightened gazelle. I am more than the sum of my fear. It isn’t fear that will defeat them. Not fear or faith or hope or even love, but rage.

Ceux qui ont appris à contrôler leur colère ne savent pas ce qui peut se déchaîner en eux. C'est une lame de fond qui les emporte toujours trop loin. Et quand le calme enfin revient, ils se découvrent vaincus par leurs excès et leur bestialité.

Cigars are all the rage, dad. You should smoke cigars!" - Calvin "Flatulence could be all the rage, but it would still be disgusting." - Calvin's mom

Daddy once told me there's a rage passed down to every black man from his ancestors, born the moment they couldn't stop the slave masters from hurting their families. Daddy also said there's nothing more dangerous than when that rage is activated (196)

Dans les époques de stérilité, on devrait hiberner, dormir jour et nuit pour conserver ses forces, au lieu de les dépenser en mortifications et en rages.

Even if our survival skills have become impediments we would like to let go of because they have ceased to serve us, we can still love ourselves with them. In appreciation of our survival, we can be awed at how our resources brought us through, even when these resources were things like indifference, a wall of rage, a cold heart…We learn to embrace ourselves as humans with faults and problems.

Ever since she was a young girl, [Patricia Highsmith] had felt an extraordinary empathy for animals, particularly cats. The creatures, she said, 'provide something for writers that humans cannot: companionship that makes no demands or intrusions, that is as restful and ever-changing as a tranquil sea that barely moves'. Her affection for cats was 'a constant as was feline companionship wherever her domestic situation permitted,' says Kingsley. 'As for animals in general, she saw them as individual personalities often better behaved, and endowed with more dignity and honesty than humans. Cruelty to or neglect of any helpless living creature could turn her incandescent with rage.' Janice Robertson remembers how [...] Highsmith was walking through the streets of Soho when she saw a wounded pigeon lying in the gutter. 'Pat decided there and then that this pigeon should be rescued,' says Janice. 'Although I think Roland persuaded her that it was past saving, she really was distraught. She couldn't bear to see animals hurt.' Bruno Sager, Highsmith's carer at the end of her life, recalls the delicacy with which the writer would take hold of a spider which had crawled into the house, making sure to deposit it safely in her garden. 'For her human beings were strange - she thought she would never understand them - and perhaps that is why she liked cats and snails so much,' he says.

Fangirl rage. It demands to be feared.

Finally, she grew quiet. After that, coherent thought. With this, stalked through her a cold, bloody rage; Hours of this; a period of introspection; a space of retrospection; then a mixture of both. Out of this, an awful calm.

Flushed with his impassioned gibberish, he saw himself standing alone on the last barrier of civilization.