Jonathan Swift Quotes

And die of nothing but a rage to live.

I felt like poisoning a monk.

There were a coupla times when I had had it. And when I'm pushed to the limit, I scream.

I am as frustrated with society as a pyromaniac in a petrified forest.

If I cry, it's because I'm very angry and I can't do anything about it because I've run into a dead end. That's when the tears would come down.

If you're writing about angry people, you use the language of anger. If you're writing about desperate people, you use the language of desperation.

No one wants to drown. Drowning would be the worst. Cause everyone knows that feeling. That feeling, oh it's the worst... when you think you're drowning.

If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.

One of my problems is I am getting so mature that I have to pick up a TV and toss it through the coffee table just to remind people of who I am. I want to go ranting and screaming into the grave.

I'll say anything to live.

Rats desert a sinking ship.

… there were days … when I came back from some scene of eviction so maddened by the sights of hunger and misery I had seen in the day’s work that I felt disposed to take the gun from behind my door and shoot the first landlord I met.

When I read passages like this, I want to look for the nearest wall to bang my head against.

It's the people without the money and the power, who desperately want to live, for those people small things aren't small at all.

I know. So, I was angry with you. I didn't know why. I was angry with the world. I did know why. I hated all my therapists for being useless. I was this little ball of self-destructive fury, and none of them could do anything but tell me that I was a little ball of self-destructive fury. [...] I knew I was angry. Tell me what to do with that anger, please.

I am the beast at the end of the rope.

When I break into the clearing, she's on the ground, hopelessly entangled in a net. She just has the time to reach her hand through the mesh and say my name before the spear enters her body.

Once released from life, having lost it in such violence, I couldn’t calculate my steps. I didn’t have time for contemplation. In violence it is the getting out that you concentrate on. When you begin to go over the edge, life receding from you as a boat recedes inevitably from the shore, you hold on to death tightly, like a rope that will transport you, and you swing out on it, hoping to land away from where you are.

But you think that it is time for me to have done with the world, and so I would if I could get into a better before I was called into the best, and not die here in a rage, like a poisoned rat in a hole.

Sometimes it takes all my resolution and power of self-control to refrain from butting my head against the wall. I want to howl and foam at the mouth but I daren't.

If I don’t start having service I’m going to swap you all for a dog and shoot the dog.

It's normal at this point for the fear-anger syndrome to take over and make you want to hammer on that side plate with a chisel, to pound it off with a sledge if necessary. You think about it, and the more you think about it the more you're inclined to take the whole machine to a high bridge and drop it off. It's just outrageous that a tiny little slot of a screw can defeat you so totally.

When there are no other options, people fight harder. If the choice is life or death they have nothing to lose.

Captain Niall, having apparently resigned himself to losing his quarry, was savaging her horsehair petticoat into teeny, tiny shreds. "Really, what did my poor petticoat do to offend?