Two Navy SEALs versus one angry seven-month-old," he mused, "The odds could go either way.
Let her arm go and pray she has no bruise,” a familiar voice said in a low angry tone. I shuddered from relief at the sound of his voice. Trey released my arm and shrugged, grinning. “I just wanted an oyster, and she wouldn’t serve me.” I opened my mouth to protest when the warm fingers holding my arm softly squeezed me for reassurance. So, I stayed quiet. “Jason, please escort your friend to the door. I have no other reason to speak with him unless Sadie has a bruise or any lasting marks from his hands, and then he will see me again.
I'm sad. Pressed down by sorrow. I'm angry. Pissed at God, if there is one, and the way things are. I'm scared. Confused by the whys. Why are we here? Is there, really, some intelligent design? Why do we cry for someone who leaves us if there's some Grand Pearly Gate in the sky? Why worry about how we build our lives if the ultimate ending for all is death, a single breath away? (358)
I have the choice to be angry at God for what i don't have, or be thankful for what i do have
Picasso.” He whispers like a priest. “Picasso. Who saw the truth. Who painted the truth, molded it, ripped from the earth with two angry hands.
For me, it's never been an ego situation where I have been "I'm the boss; expletive you." It's always been a situation where someone comes to me and says "I can't tolerate working with you anymore" and I would admit sometimes I wouldn't blame them for that. But I also sometimes think I'm not that difficult to figure out. I don't really know what has driven people to be so angry and bitter - people like my old keyboard player Pogo, who I've known for such a long time. I feel bad for him, but there are grievances with everything.
I force my eyes upward and look at Mia for the first time. She's still beautiful. Not in an obvious Vanessa LeGrande or Bryn Shraeder kind of way. In a quiet way that's always been devastating to me. Her hair, long and dark, is down now, swimming damply against her bare shoulders, which are still milky white and covered with the constellation of freckles that I used to kiss. The scar on her left shoulder, the one that used to be an angry red weld is silvery pink now. Almost like the latest rage in tattoo accessories. Almost pretty.
My other friends are in music relaxation class, which I do not attend, because smooth jazz makes me angry sometimes.
It is when you are angry that you must watch how you talk.
You had me tied in knots. You saved Belen's life, and I wanted to kill and thank you all at the same time. And during those nights when we didn't know if you'd live or die, I went from being angry, to worried to frustrated to scared all within a single heartbeat. If you had die, I would have killed you.
Are there books about us or something?” This makes Pressia angry - the idea that this world is a subject of study, a story, instead of filled with real people, trying to survive.
Worrying about scarcity is our culture's version of post-traumatic stress. It happens when we've been through too much, and rather than coming together to heal (which requires vulnerability) we're angry and scared and at each other's throats.
I was angry with myself because I still loved her, or at least I loved that dream of our togetherness. My feelings were unreasonable, irrational, and I couldn't change them. That hurt.
It’s that I think Will is angry with me,” Tessa explained. “So whatever he told you—” He laughed. “Will is angry with everyone,” he said. “I don’t let it color my judgment.
a person who gets angry at his own illness is sure to overcome it
Behind all art is an element of desire...Love of life, of existence, love of another human being, love of human beings is in some way behind all art — even the most angry, even the darkest, even the most grief-stricken, and even the most embittered art has that element somewhere behind it. Because how could you be so despairing, so embittered, if you had not had something you loved that you lost?
She looks sad. She looks angry. She looks different from everyone else I know—she cannot put on that happy face others wear when they know they are being watched. She doesn’t put on a face for me, which makes me trust her somehow.
Sometimes I think a man could wander across the disc all his life and not see everything there is to see,' said Twoflower. 'And now it seems there are lots of other worlds as well. When I think I might die without seeing a hundredth of all there is to see it makes me feel,' he paused, then added, 'well, humble, I suppose. And very angry, of course.
Al walks in, and I don't even have to ask him to help me, he just walks over and strips bedding with me. i will have to scrub the frame later. Al carries the stack of sheets to the trash and together we walk toward the training room. "Ignore him," Al says. "He's an idiot, and if you don't get angry, he'll stop eventually.
Do you hear the people sing? Singing a song of angry men
Do you ever wonder what it's like to be so angry that you...And then something happens, and after that, everyone figures that's what you're like, and that's what you're always going to be, and so you just decide to be it? But the whole time you're thinking, Am I going to be like him? Or am I already like him? And then you get angrier, because maybe you are, and you want... He stopped. He wiped at his eyes. I'm not lying. My brother wiped at his eyes.
No reason to be angry. Anger just distracts from the all-encompassing sadness.
When you aren't drinking or using drugs or spending lots of money on fancy toys or basking in the glow of fame or working all the time or eating your way through the refrigerator, being hateful and angry is a very handy shield from the truth. It lets you focus on everyone else's shortcomings, and all the ways they have let you down. You can bemoan how all these broken people keep finding you somehow. That way you don't have to focus on what really matters -- the tough work of fiing what is broken inside you.
I think it was the one thing I didn’t like about him or about guys in general: when a girl says she doesn’t want to talk about it, the truth is that she usually does. I wanted him to pry it out of me. Of course, I would’ve pretended to be a little angry that he didn’t just leave me alone, but eventually I would’ve told him, when I was tired of pretending.
I only write when I'm angry or sad, so because that's when I just have to write... If I'm having a good time and I'm happy and things are going really well, why would I want to stop what I'm doing to go and write at the piano?
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