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R Quotes

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All R Quotes

“Rage flared up in Tessa and she considered belting Woolsey with the poker whether he came near her or not. He had moved awfully quickly while fighting Will, though, and she didn’t fancy her chances. “You don’t know James Carstairs. Don’t speak about him.” “Love him, do you?” Woolsey managed to make it sound unpleasant. “But you love Will, too.” Tessa froze. She had known that Magnus knew of Will’s affection for her, but the idea that what she felt for him in return was written across her face was too terrifying to contemplate.”

“Rage is really only for the good days. The truth is there's little of that left. the truth is that the forms I see have been slowly emptied out. They no longer have any content. They are shapes only. A train, a wall, a world. Or a man. A thing dangling in senseless articulation in a howling void. No meaning to its life. Its words. Why would I seek the company of such a thing? Why?”

“Rage swallowed remorse. Rage drop-kicked self-pity. Rage murdered sorrow. And then, like blood-red wine tucked into the refrigerator, rage chilled to become cold, calculating anger. Anger was a creature that arrived on her doorstep with a suitcase full of strategy and vengeance. It tipped its hat at her and hopped into her brain. It knocked on the Logic Department's door. It found a broken mirror somewhere in the crevices between her hippocampus and her hypothalamus, and it was wondering if somebody had misplaced it. No retaliation? It scoffed. Think again, missy.”

“Rage swept over her at being young, young and little, as if some evil fairy had put that spell on her. Why must you be locked up in this dreadful cage of childhood for twenty or a hundred years? Nothing in life was possible unless you were old and rich, until then you were only small and futile before your tormentors, desperately waiting for the release that only years could bring.”

“Rage was a funny thing. You could put it away for months or even years, tucked neatly inside a drawer alongside your sorrow and your childlike love for an old TV show. You could glance at it once in a while and think, Maybe I’ll wear that today. But it was easier not to. Nothing else in the drawer matched and besides, you grew out of it years ago. Until one day, it fits again.”

“Raghead (The Sonnet) Some call me raghead, Some call me desert dweller. Some call me curry-breath, Some call me f-ing nigger. This is not just my story, But of every person of color. In a world stolen by whites, Anything non-white is inferior. Upon receiving so much hate, I admit, sometimes I do feel gloomy. I know how it is to be cussed everyday, So I choose love no matter the agony. The tradition of hate has gone on long enough. I choose to be the break in habit on the world's behalf.”

“Raging crime, class warfare, invasive immigrants, light morals, public misbehavior. Always we convince ourselves that the parade of unwelcome and despised is a new phenomenon, which is why the phrase "the good old days" has passed from cliché to self-parody.”

“Ragnarok. Is that all the North ever thinks about? Is that what you want, Snorri? Some great battle and the world ruined and dead?” I couldn’t blame him if he did. Not with what had befallen him this past year, but I would be disturbed to know he had always lusted after such an end, even on the night before the black ships came to Eight Quays. The light kindling on my torch caught him in midshrug. “Do you want the paradise your priests paint for you on cathedral ceilings?” “Good point.”