Rage Quotes

“This is what I saw, in the reflections of the tomb." She whispered it almost to herself, broken-voiced. "It's what the goddess dreamed, but I thought I could prevent it. I thought you would choose the world over yourself."

"I'm far too selfish for that," Lore whispered.”
― Hannah F. Whitten, The Foxglove King

“Those who choose a love that can never be fulfilled will be hounded by a rage that can never be extinguished.”
― Cormac McCarthy, Stella Maris

“Rage shivered through her, a rage that seemed like it could topple the halls of heaven, then vanished under the knowledge of her own helplessness. Rage was only useful if you were allowed to do anything with it.”
― T. Kingfisher, Nettle & Bone

“And rage is only for what you believe can be fixed. All the rest is grief,”
― Cormac McCarthy, Stella Maris

“Sisters of the torn shirts.
Sisters of the chase around the desk, casting couch, hotel room, file cabinet.
Sisters dragging shattered dreams, bruised hopes, ambitions abandoned in the dirt.
Sisters fishing one by one in the lake of shame.
Hooks baited with fear always come back empty.
Truth dawns slow when you've been beaten and lied to, but it burns hard and bright once it wakes.
Sisters, drop everything.
Walk away from the lake, leaning on each other's shoulders when you need the support.
Feel the contractions of another truth ready to be born.
Shame turned inside out is rage.”
― Laurie Halse Anderson, Shout

“I know that you can make a good case that all of human sorrow is grounded in injustice. Ands sorrow is what is left when rage is expended and found to be impotent.”
― Cormac McCarthy, Stella Maris

“Every day she felt unnerved by how reasonable her love and her fury, which had become one, seemed. She spent most days feeling stunned, aware only of a sort of rage swirling loose inside her like a rainstorm gathering speed, and it frightened her to think of what might happen if she were to let it implode.”
― Huma Qureshi, Things We Do Not Tell The People We Love

“This is a reactionary rage, often fueled by a sense of deprivation and a belief the world owes something to the daughter who lost her mother too young. But underneath it is usually a deep anger toward the mother herself.”
― Hope Edelman, Motherless Daughters: The Legacy of Loss

“It hurt me with its inevitability. They all find out sooner or later how unchic it is to pop your buttons at the Sadie Hawkins dance, or to crawl into the trunk so you can get into the drive-in for free. They stop eating pizza and plugging dimes into the juke down at Fat Sammy’s. They stop kissing boys in the blueberry patch. And they always seem to end up looking like Barbie doll cutouts in Jack and Jill magazine. Fold in at Slot A, Slot B, and Slot C. Watch Her Grow Old Before Your Very Eyes.”
― Richard Bachman, Rage

“I will destroy and ruin everything.”
― Seneca, Six Tragedies

“Still, rage and revenge sometimes needed to be indulged in the path to whatever “enlightenment” the Gods had designed. When someone wrongs you, hurts you, breaks you or the ones you love, you can either drown in fear and despair or fight back hard, relentlessly and without flinching. The path to power was the path to safety, the road to the confidence stolen by men…always men.”
― Alexandra Almeida, Unanimity

“Every day she felt unnerved by how unreasonable her love and her fury, which had become one, seemed. She spent most days feeling stunned, aware only of a sort of rage swirling loose inside her like a rainstorm gathering speed, and it frightened her to think of what might happen if she were to let it implode.”
― Huma Qureshi, Things We Do Not Tell The People We Love

“The rage of children seemed inexplicable other than as a breach of some deep and innate covenant having to do with how the world should be and wasnt.”
― Cormac McCarthy, Stella Maris

“Tired. I was so- tired.

When we were almost to the table, Rhys said, 'I felt a spike of fear this month through our lovely bond. Anything exciting happen at the wondrous Spring Court?'

'It was nothing,' I said. Because it was. And it was none of his business.

I glanced sidelong at him- and rage, not worry- flicked in those eyes.

I could have sworn the mountain beneath us trembled in response.

'If you know,' I said coldly, 'why even ask about it?' I dropped into my chair as he slid into his.

He said quietly, 'Because these days, all I hear through the bond is nothing. Silence. Even with your shields up rather impressively most of the time, I should be able to feel you. And yet I don't. Sometimes I'll tug on the bond only to make sure you're still alive.' Darkness guttered. 'And then one day, I'm in the middle of an important meeting when terror blasts through the bond. All I get are glimpses of you and him- and then nothing. Back to silence. I'd like to know what caused such a disruption.'

I served myself from the platters of food, barely caring what had been laid on the table. 'It was an argument, and the rest is none of your concern.'

'Is it why you look like grief and guilt and rage are eating you alive, bit by bit?”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I lifted the book, firing two words down the bond between us before I blasted my shields up again.

Conversation over.

'Like hell it is,' he snarled. A thrum of power caressed my fingers, and then the book sealed shut between my hands. My nails dug into the leather and paper- to no avail.

Bastard. Arrogant, presuming bastard.

Slowly, I lifted my eyes to him. And I felt... not hot temper- but icy, glittering rage.

I could almost feel that ice at my fingertips, kissing my palms. And I swore there was frost coating the book before I hurled it at his head.

He shielded fast enough that it bounced away and slid across the marble floor behind us.

'Good,' he said, his breathing a bit uneven. 'What else do you have, Feyre?'

Ice melted to flame, and my fingers curled into fists.

And the High Lord of the Night Court honestly looked relieved at the sight of it- of that wrath that made me want to rage and burn.

A feeling, for once. Not like that hollow cold and silence.

And the thought of returning to that manor with the sentries and the patrols and the secrets... I sank back into my chair. Frozen once more.

'Any time you need someone to play with,' Rhys said, pushing the plate toward me on a star-flecked wind, 'whether it's during our marvellous week together or otherwise, you let me know.'

I couldn't muster up a response, exhausted from the bit of temper I'd shown.

And I realised I was in a free fall with no end. I had been for a while. From the moment I'd stabbed that Fae youth in the heart.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“People often made the mistake of assuming Cassian was the wilder one; the one who couldn't be tamed. But Cassian was all hot temper- temper that could be used to forge and weld. There was an icy rage in Azriel I had never been able to thaw.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“When are you going to talk about how you wrote a letter to Tamlin, telling him you've left for good?'

The question hit me so viciously that I sniped, 'How about when you talk about how you tease and taunt Mor to hide whatever it is you feel for her?' Because I had no doubt that he was well aware of the role he played in their little tangled web.
...
Cassian let out a startled, rough laugh. 'Old news.'

'I have a feeling that's what she probably says about you.'
...
But the question he'd asked swarmed in my skull. You've left for good, you've left for good, you've left for good.

I had- I'd meant it. But without knowing what he thought, if he'd even care that much... No, I knew he'd care. He'd probably trashed the manor in his rage.

If my mere mention of him suffocating me had caused him to destroy his study, then this... I had been frightened by those fits of pure rage, cowed by them. And it had been love- I had loved him so deeply, so greatly, but...”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“He held the dipper out to Jake. When Jake reached for it, Tick-Tock pulled it back.
"First, cully, tell me what you know about dipolar computers and transitive circuits," he said coldly.
"What..." Jake looked toward the ventilator grille, but the golden eyes were still gone. He was beginning to think he had imagined them after all. He shifted his gaze back to the Tick-Tock Man, understanding one thing clearly: he wasn't going to get any water. He had been stupid to even dream he might. "What are dipolar computers?"
The Tick-Tock Man's face contorted with rage; he threw the remainder of the watter into Jake's bruised, puffy face. "DON'T YOU PLAY IT LIGHT WITH ME!" he shrieked. He stripped off the Seiko watch and shook it in front of Jake. "WHEN I ASKED YOU IF THIS RAN ON A DIPOLAR CIRCUIT, YOU SAID IT DIDN'T! SO DON'T TELL ME YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M TLAKING ABOUT WHEN YOU ALREADY MADE IT CLEAR THAT YOU DO!"
"But...but..." Jake couldn't go on. His head was whirling with fear and confusion. He was aware, in some far-off fashion, that he was licking as much water as he could off his lips.
"THERE'S A THOUSAND OF THOSE EVER-FUCKING DIPOLAR COMPUTERS RIGHT UNDER THE EVER-FUCKING CITY, MAYBE A HUNDRED THOUSAND, AND THE ONLY ONE THAT STILL WORKS DON'T DO A THING EXCEPT PLAY WATCH ME AND RUN THOSE DRUMS! I WANT THOSE COMPUTERS! I WANT THEM WORKING FOR ME!"
The Tick-Tock Man bolted forward on his throne, seized Jake, shook him back and forth, and then threw him to the floor. Jake struck one of the lamps, knocking it over, and the bulb blew with a hollow coughing sound. Tilly gave a little shriek and stepped backward, her eyes wide and frightened. Copperhead and Brandon looked at each other uneasily.
Tick-Tock leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, and screamed into Jake's face: "I WANT THEM AND I MEAN TO HAVE THEM!"
Silence fell in the room, broken only by the soft whoosh of warm air pouring from the ventilators. Then the twisted rage on the Tick-Tock Man's face disappeared so suddenly it might never have existed at all. It was replaced by another charming smile. He leaned further forward and helped Jake to his feet.
"Sorry. I get thinking about the potential of this place and sometimes I get carried away. Please accept my apology, cully." He picked up the overturned dipper and threw it at Tilly. "Fill this up, you useless bitch! What's the matter with you?"
He turned his attention back to Jake, still smiling his TV game-show host smile.
"All right; you've had your little joke and I've had mine. Now tell me everything you know about dipolar computers and transitive circuits. Then you can have a drink.”
― Stephen King, The Waste Lands

“Rage was making him fluent”
― Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

“Rage is an emotion women are typically forbidden to express, and it is repressed until it becomes unleashed in ways that seem supernatural to those who cannot fathom how it feels to be so violated.”
― Leanna Renee Hieber, A Haunted History of Invisible Women: True Stories of America's Ghosts

“காடு அழியும்போது கொள்ளும் ரௌத்திரம் மிகவும் வலிமையானது.”
― S. Ramakrishnan, யாமம் [Yamam]

“It was past noon and the alley was deserted, overbright and shadow-less. She had just woken up from a nap. Long was at work. The dog was in a rectangular cage, its snout muzzled. It had been deposited on the curb in front of the restaurant, destined to be eaten in one of the seven ways advertised on the sign. It was a small, skeletal thing, with jutting hip bones Winnie could make out all the way from the balcony, but it was so filthy that she couldn't tell what color it was supposed to be.
And as she watched, the animal lifted its head and locked eyes with Winnie, and Winnie had to hold on to the railing to steady herself because there was such raw anger in those eyes that her whole body shuddered in response. In that moment Winnie felt something strangely akin to envy. There was something wild and unquenchable even in a cage, in the last hours before it became someone's dinner that the dog possessed, which Winnie had never figured out how to cultivate correctly inside herself. She did not pity the dog; she pitied herself, and this was why she knew she had to free it.”
― Violet Kupersmith, Build Your House Around My Body

“Cette rage, nous l’avions tous. C’était la rage de vaincre : vaincre la solitude, vaincre la Justice qui nous avait mis là, vaincre la mort qui nous narguait si souvent.”
― Luc-Angélique Gounot, Odyssée d'un forçat

“Better to die with my chin held high than grovelling like a cowering worm.

Even if his answering growl was the definition of wrath and rage.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“The house had been quiet for some time now, but the ripples of Tamlin's rage echoed through it, reverberating in the wood and stone and glass.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“This notion of rest, it's attractive to her, but I don't think she would like it. They are all like that, these women. Waiting for the ease, the space that need not be filled with anything other than the drift of their own thoughts. But they wouldn't like it. They are busy and thinking of ways to be busier because such a space of nothing pressing to do would knock them down. No fields of cowslips will rush into that opening, nor mornings free of flies and heat when the light is shy. No. Not at all. They fill their mind and hands with soap and repair and dicey confrontations because what is waiting for them, in a suddenly idle moment, is the seep of rage. Molten. Thick and slow-moving. Mindful and particular about what in its path it chooses to bury. Or else, into a beat of time, and sideways under their breasts, slips a sorrow they don't know where from.”
― Toni Morrison, Jazz

“Тетяно, Тетяно, що ти, донцю, знаєш, що значить у грудях в жінки жаль. Він ваги не знає... І най бог боронить, щоб ти його зазнала хоч би і здалека. Ти збожеволіла б.”
― Мавра

“His hands in his lap grasp and clench the air like he’s trying to find the world’s throat and choke it until it’s dead.”
― Jordan Harper, Everybody Knows

“I promise you do not want me as your enemy.”
― C.J. Redwine, Rise of the Vicious Princess

“My 'temper' was a dark, wicked blotch in me, not a response to events in the outer world.”
― Adrienne Rich, Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution