P. C. Cast Quotes

Anger is the most impotent of passions. It effects nothing it goes about, and hurts the one who is possessed by it more than the one against whom it is directed.

Now when you hates you shrinks up inside and gets littler and you squeezes your heart tight and you stays so mad with peoples you feels sick all the time like you needs the doctor.

Anger is a momentary madness, so control your passion or it will control you.

I'm Bam Margera. And I feel like kicking my dad's butt all day today.

Anger has a way of seeping into every other emotion and planting itself in there.

Anger makes dull men witty, but it keeps them poor.

Anger is implanted in us as sort of sting, to make us gnash with our teeth against the devil, to make us vehement against him, not to set us in array against each other.

Anger is energising. The opposite of anger is depression, which is anger turned inward.

My uncle Sammy was an angry man. He had printed on his tombstone: What are you looking at?

How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it.

When anger comes, there is no way of satisfying its demands

I go to bed angry every night, and I get up angrier every morning.

Rage can be so common it turns ambient.

On a good day, I'm a bitter, angry, chip-on-my-shoulder type of guy.

People expect me to be angry, bitter. They expect to me be abrasive, aggressive. I'm not.

I don't have chips on my shoulders, I have bricks.

Sometimes we equate anger to destructive physical violence, but anger need not be martial.

The Lord help us!' he soliloquised in an undertone of peevish displeasure, while relieving me of my horse: looking, meantime, in my face so sourly that I charitably conjectured he must have need of divine aid to digest his dinner, and his pious ejaculation had no reference to my unexpected advent.

I flung my tongue round like a cat-o'-nine-tails so that my pleasant peaceful infant room became little less than a German concentration camp as I took out on the children what life should have got.

I am...sad and angry. Why is my spirit so sad and angry? I look back at my life and all I can remember is rage and rage and rage.

My childhood was a period of waiting for the moment when I could send everyone and everything connected with it to hell.

I would just go in my room and just scream out of anger because I didn't understand how a person could be so vicious and mean.

I wanna bite the hand that feeds me. I wanna bite that hand so badly. I want to make them wish they'd never seen me.

Resentment creates stress.