#d

I had to sever my emotional cord to escape the anger and shame that silently slithered through my head, disconnecting myself from the stares and whispers that followed me down the hall. ↗

— Rebecca Donovan

#disconnecting #emma #emotional #escape #feelings

and it was the pretending that might explain how she could smile so brightly while her mind felt nothing - as if, at these times, there existed a disconnection between outer and inner, a shutting off, and the key to her happiness lay in warding off pain, or dodging it, or pushing it into the shape of something else - like shame or anger or even hope. ↗

— Sue Saliba

#emotions #anger

The right way is not always the popular and easy way. Standing for right when it is unpopular is a true test of moral character. ↗

— Margaret Chase Smith

#character #easy #easy way #moral #moral character

Jimmy: One day, when I'm no longer spending my days running a sweet-stall, I may write a book about us all. It's all here. (slapping his forehead) Written in flames a mile high. And it won't be recollected in tranquillity either, picking daffodils with Auntie Wordsworth. It'll be recollected in fire, and blood. My blood. ↗

— John Osborne

#blood #fire #jimmy-porter #anger

The heart of the Pharisee is within us all, to redefine God's law so it doesn't apply to me anymore. It applies to my neighbor but not to me. ↗

— Ron Pearce

#pride #anger

The best contraceptive is the word no - repeated frequently. ↗

— Margaret Smith

#contraceptive #frequently #repeated #word

I reached for her, pushing back the fall of hair-it was heavy and thick and smooth to the touch-and tilted her chin so that the moonlight shone on her wet face. We married each other that night, there on a bed of fallen pine needles-even today, the scent of pitch-pine stirs me-with Henry's distant flute for a wedding march and the arching white birch boughs for our basilica. At first, she quivered like an aspen, and I was ashamed at my lack of continence, yet I could not let go of her. I felt like Peleus on the beach, clinging to Thetis, only to find that, suddenly, it was she who held me; that same furnace in her nature that had flared up in anger blazed again, in passion. ↗

— Geraldine Brooks

#love #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

Transferring my anger and pain onto paper turns it into something tangible, something that can be shredded or burned, or at the very least, sealed shut in a box. ~Call Me Tuesday ↗

— Leigh Byrne

#call-me-tuesday #leigh-byrne #pain #quotes #anger

His anger took many shapes: sometimes soft and familiar, like a round stone he had caressed for so long that is was perfectly smooth and polished; sometimes it was thin and sharp like a blade that could slice through anything; sometimes it had the form of a star, radiating his hatred in all directions, leaving him numb and empty inside. ↗

— Laila Lalami

#hatred #anger