#ang

Willow nestled against him. He smoothed her long hair down the back of her T-shirt, feeling its softness. In a few moments she fell asleep again, her breathing warm and regular against his chest. Alex kissed her head, his arms tightening around her. As he drifted back to sleep himself, he saw a brief flash of the thousands of angels streaming in, but right then it seemed distant, almost unimportant. The only thing that mattered was that he was lying in a bed holding Willow, their bare legs entwined. It was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. ↗

— L.A. Weatherly

#life

As water cannot rise higher than its source, so the moral quality in an act can never be higher than the motive that inspires it. For this reason no act that arises from an evil motive can be good, even though some good may appear to come out of it. Every deed done out of anger or spite, for instance, will be found at last to have been done for the enemy and against the kingdom of God. ↗

— A.W. Tozer

#anger

Yes?" "When you said you weren't angry..." "Yes?" "Were you?" "I was rather annoyed," he admitted. "But not angry?" She sounded as if she didn't believe him. "Believe me, Henry, when I get angry, you'll know." "What happens?" His eyes clouded over slightly before he answered. "You don't want to know." She believed him. ↗

— Julia Quinn

#dunford #anger

Good! he wanted to cry out to her. Good! Because you only had to see it! I had to wear it! ↗

— Stephen King

#hurt #anger

Show me a culture where honesty is considered ridiculous, where nobody's ever accountable for anything, where anger gets admired as a sign of strength, and I'll show you a place where misery is permanent ↗

— Anthony Steyning

#psychology #sociology #anger

Olivia: "Were you aiming at someone?" Alec: "...God, I think... ↗

— Diane Chamberlain

#anger

Republicans have succeeded with a social agenda that gets people to vote against their own interests while the Democrats are so elitist that they can't tap into the anger that's real. ↗

— Peter Applebome

#anger

When she made her way to the big picture window that framed the dining room table she froze. She stopped breathing. The anger was growing again. It grew up into her throat, where she could taste it, coppery like blood, in the back of her mouth. It grew down into her stomach, where it knotted her intestines. It made her arms stiffen and her shoulders lock. It pushed against her ribs until she felt they would snap like sticks. ↗

— Ann Brashares

#anger

Why was it that her temper and her thinking never happened at the same time? Her temper behaved like a glutton sitting in an expensive restaurant ordering a hundred dishes, only to disappear when the bill came due. It left her lucid mind to do dishes. ↗

— Ann Brashares

#temper #thinking #anger

Qualsiasi persona normale di tanto in tanto prova la tentazione di sputarsi nelle mani, issare la bandiera nera e cominciare a tagliare le gole. ↗

— H.L. Mencken

#italiano #rage #anger