Best 339 quotes in «rage quotes» category

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    We, the public, are easily, lethally offended. We have come to think of taking offence as a fundamental right. We value very little more highly than our rage, which gives us, in our opinion, the moral high ground. From this high ground we can shoot down at our enemies and inflict heavy fatalities. We take pride in our short fuses. Our anger elevates, transcends.

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    We will martyr ourselves, suffering under the weight of a non-reciprocal relationship until some part of us bursts in protest. Suddenly, we lose our mind, and allowing ourselves to heap all manner of nastiness, name calling, patronizing, death threats on the “deserving” jerk who has it coming after all we do for him/her! As the final insult rings across the room and we regain consciousness, we are horrified by what has come out of our mouth. After all, we LOVE these people, and we quickly move into anxious terror that this time we have gone too far . . . this time we crossed the line and they will leave us. So, we hunker back down and the martyrdom begins again. It’s a terrible cycle.

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    When the time is right, when these feelings of rage and unfairness once again overcome me, I will not faint. I will fight.

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    Why does anger makes people pretty? Rage doesn't. Rage makes you ugly, but a little anger, that just seems to add spice. One of nature's cruelties, or maybe it's to keep us from killing each other more often.

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    You can curse the wind, but you can't keep the leaves from falling.

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    you, my friend, could be the smoke’s daughter, you who may not have known you were born of fire and rage, lightning over flaming lava etched your violet mouth, your sex in the scorched oak’s moss like a ring in a nest, your fingers there in the flames, your compact body rose from leaves of fire that make me recall there were bakers in your family tree, you’re still the rainforest’s bread, ash from violent wheat,

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    You think I don’t know pain?” Puck shook his head at me. “Or loss? I’ve been around a lot longer than you, prince! I know what love is, and I’ve lost my fair share, too. Just because we have a different way of handling it, doesn’t mean I don’t have scars of my own.” “Name one,” I scoffed. “Give me one instance where you haven’t—” “Meghan Chase!” Puck roared, startling me into silence. I blinked, and he sneered at me. “Yeah, your highness. I know what loss is. I’ve loved that girl since before she knew me. But I waited. I waited because I didn’t want to lie about who I was. I wanted her to know the truth before anything else. So I waited, and I did my job. For years, I protected her, biding my time, until the day she went into the Nevernever after her brother. And then you came along. And I saw how she looked at you. And for the first time, I wanted to kill you as much as you wanted to kill me.

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    You think I’ll weep? No, I’ll not weep. Storm and tempest. I have full cause of weeping, but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or e’re I’ll weep.—O Fool, I shall go mad.

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    You've got a shitty habit, you know it? I've noticed it on all those TV drive-safely pitches that you do. You breathe in people's ears. You sound like a stallion in heat, Philbrick. That's a shitty habit. You also sound like you're reading off a teleprompter, even when you're not. You ought to take care of stuff like that. You might save a life.

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    You were the monster, but all I could see was the boy.

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    A fever is an expression of inner rage.

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    although science could pinpoint the exact spot in the brain that ignites rage, they had yet to identify the location that produces love.

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    What does it mean to demonstrate in the streets, what is the significance of that collective activity so symptomatic of the twentieth century? In stupefaction Ulrich watches the demonstrators from the window; as they reach the foot of the palace, their faces turn up, turn furious, the men brandish their walking sticks, but “a few steps farther, at a bend where the demonstration seemed to scatter into the wings, most of them were already dropping their greasepaint: it would be absurd to keep up the menacing looks where there were no more spectators.” In the light of that metaphor, the demonstrators are not men in a rage; they are actors performing rage! As soon as the performance is over they are quick to drop their greasepaint! Later, in the 1960s, philosophers would talk about the modern world in which everything had turned into spectacle: demonstrations, wars, and even love; through this “quick and sagacious penetration” (Fielding), Musil had already long ago discerned the “society of spectacle.

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    What was rage but a cover for some secret fragility, some sorrow?

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    Whore!” he snarls, slamming me into the wall so hard stars burst in my eyes. I hiss at him, the tiger in me threatening to emerge and rip out his throat, but a shout brings me back to myself. “Zahra!” I turn my head and see Aladdin running toward us. When he sees that it’s Darian holding me roughly against the wall, his face twists into such rage that he seems unrecognizable. He crashes into Darian before the prince has a chance to say anything. The two slam into the ground, Aladdin throwing a punch that cracks against Darian’s jaw. “Stop it!” I cry. “Prince Rahzad!” The boys ignore me, rolling and thrashing like dogs. Leave them! Zhian roars. Let me out! “How dare you touch her?” Aladdin spits, grabbing Darian by the hair and pressing the prince’s face into the stone floor. “You bastard!” “I didn’t give her anything she didn’t ask for,” Darian hisses back. “Get off me or I’ll have you executed!

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    All progressions from a higher to a lower order are marked by ruins and mystery and a residue of nameless rage.

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    And die of nothing but a rage to live.

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    And what can still delight an inert stone except to become, once more, the bed of a raging torrent?

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    A storm is coming; our storm. Emperor - we come for you!

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    Anger begins in folly, and ends in repentance.

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    Anger is a brief lunacy.

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    An American Negro, however deep his sympathies, or however bright his rage, ceases to be simply a black man when he faces a black man from Africa.

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    A war still rages over the legacy of the 1960s.

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    As soon as a friendship passed a certain point - some obscure and secret boundary - a woman quite automatically became overwhelmed by a raging compulsion to complicate things.

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    At heart, we're all violent raging wolves, but in our actions we can be pacifists.

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    Beware what spirit rages in your breast; for one inspired, ten thousand are possessed.

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    Be soft in your practice. Think of the method as a fine silvery stream, not a raging waterfall.

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    But instead of tears, when I press my face against the pillow, a horrible, primal scream comes out of me. It's unlike anything I thought myself capable of. Rage, unlike anything I've ever known.

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    Boredom is rage spread thin.

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    Cleanse my heart... Give me the ability to rage correctly

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    Being in a rage was rather like being out in a thunderstorm - you couldn't hear yourself think.

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    Demosthenes told Phocion, "The Athenians will kill you some day when they once are in a rage." "And you," said he, "if they are once in their senses.

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    Charles Manson loved the Beatles but didn’t understand them. Governor Chris Christie loves Bruce Springsteen but doesn’t understand him. And Paul Ryan is clueless about his favorite band, Rage Against the Machine.

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    Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.

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    Did he annoy me? Yes, he was like a wasp at a picnic.

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    Concealed sorrow bursts the heart, and rages within us as an internal fire.

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    Emotionally, I was affected a lot by Rage Against the Machine, not specifically the literal intention of the words or what it was about, but the feel, the sound, those phrases that got me.

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    Envy grieves. Jealousy rages.

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    Each one hopes that if he feeds the crocodile enough, the crocodile will eat him last. All of them hope that the storm will pass before their turn comes to be devoured. But I fear - I fear greatly - the storm will not pass. It will rage and it will roar, even more loudly, even more widely.

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    Every woman knows that any man engaging in street harassment can switch to anger very quickly and that anger goes to rage and their rage is their masculinity being threatened. We're scared for good reason.

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    Every living thing is a sort of imperialist, seeking to transform as much as possible of its environment into itself.

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    Epicurus had rage and envy of Plato's superior style.

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    Everything that is in agreement with our personal desires seems true; everything that is not puts us in a rage.

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    Go without hate, but not without rage. Heal the world.

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    Free will...it's all the rage these days

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    He didn't slam the door, didn't rage, didn't weep, he simply left.

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    For what is delusion but the prelude to hurt. And what is hurt but the prelude to rage.

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    He hated crowds, never liked punk. He couldn't handle the nakedness of the rage -his own so sophisticated and finely tuned. He could never see the similarity between himself and Donnie Draino screaming into a mic.

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    He had high hopes for society, and though his hopes were too often dashed, he remained a raging optimist.

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    … he remained restrained and strangely composed. It was a composure born of extreme provocation. It stemmed from a lucidity that lies beyond rage.