#fury

War hath no fury like a non-combatant. ↗

— Charles Edward Montague

#hath #like #war

Griffin, my brother, 11 months younger, was sometimes the victim of my father's fury - once Ryan famously knocked out his teeth. ↗

— Tatum O'Neal

#father #fury #griffin #his #knocked

Hell hath no fury like a Democrat scorned. ↗

— Jeff Rich

#fury #hath #hell #like #scorned

Anger swirled in him, a tempest readying her strike. And like a helpless vessel caught in her fury, he felt himself dashed against the rocks without mercy. ↗

— V.S. Carnes

#fury #tempest #anger

The whole thing becomes like this evil enchantment from a fairy tale, but you're made to believe the spell can never be broken. ↗

— Jess C. Scott

#abused #abused-women #anger #crime #crime-fiction

The displacement of water is equal to the something of something. ↗

— William Faulkner

#prose #the-sound-and-the-fury #william-faulkner #equality

When the shadow of the sash appeared on the curtains it was between seven and eight o' clock and then I was in time again, hearing the watch. It was Grandfather's and when Father gave it to me he said I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire; it's rather excruciating-ly apt that you will use it to gain the reducto absurdum of all human experience which can fit your individual needs no better than it fitted his or his father's. I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools. ↗

— William Faulkner

#experience

Oh, I'm starting to cry again. That's what happens when you think about life being fair. And I can't explain why it isn't . . . I don't think it's something anybody knows. ↗

— L.J. Smith

#fury #vampires #life

... your grasp, even in fury, would have a charm for me... ↗

— Charlotte Brontë

#fury #love #madness #love

then things got even stranger. Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand. "What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air. Mrs. Dodds lunged at me. With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword-Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tourement day. Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes. My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword. She snarled, "Die, honey!" And she flew straight at me. Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally:I swung the sword. The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed through her body as if she were made made of water. Hisss! Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me. ↗

— Rick Riordan

#olympians #pen #percy-jackson #nature