“Everything becomes agitated. Ideas quick-march into motion like battalions of a grand army to its legendary fighting ground, and the battle rages. Memories charge in, bright flags on high; the cavalry of metaphor deploys with a magnificent gallop; the artillery of logic rushes up with clattering wagons and cartridges; on imagination's orders, sharpshooters sight and fire; forms and shapes and characters rear up; the paper is spread with ink - for the nightly labor begins and ends with torrents of this black water, as a battle opens and concludes with black powder.” WritingIdeasEndsCharacterFormOrderFightingBlackWaterImaginationMemoriesFireBattleShapesPaperLaborLogicSightArmyMetaphorSpreadRageMarchFlagsMagnificentInkLegendaryPowderWagonsArtilleryCavalry Author:Honore de Balzac
“There is a man who exists as one of the most popular objects of leadership, legislation, and quasi-literature in the history of all men. . . . This man, that object of attention, attack, and vast activity, cannot make himself be heard, let alone understood. He has never been listened to. . . . That man is Black and alive in white America where the media of communication do not allow the delivery of his own voice, his own desires, his own rage.” MenAmericaDesireLiteratureBlackVoiceWhiteAttentionAliveHeardMediaObjectsCommunicationActivityUnderstoodRageLegislationDelivery Author:June Jordan
“Like all passions, anger has degrees, ascending from slight vexation through deepening clouds to rage, and finally to fury, which is a black and horrible tempest. In its mid-region, where it is neither too little to be motive nor too furious to be ungovernable, it has usefulness. For all feeling is as fuel, and where there is none life has no fire, and then no flame of ascent.” LittlesFeelingsPassionBlackFireDegreesAngerCloudsRageHorribleFlamesMotiveFuelRegionsFuryUsefulnessFuriousTempestAscentVexationAscending Author:James Vila Blake
“And in between the two, in between the sky and the sea, were all the winds. And there were all the nights and all the moons. To be a castaway is to be a point perpetually at the centre of a circle. However much things may appear to change-the sea may shift from whisper to rage, the sky might go from fresh blue to blinding white to darkest black-the geometry never changes. Your gaze is always a radius. The circumference is ever great. In fact, the circles multiply. To be a castaway is to be caught in a harrowing ballet of circles.” MayTwoFactsMightNightBlackWhiteSeaSkyWindMoonBlueCaughtRageCirclesBalletCentreNever ChangeGeometryRadiusCastaway Author:Yann Martel
“For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements' rage, the fiend voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest!” FirstsSoulEndsLightPainTurnsBlackVoiceMinutesWorstElementsBraveRageMy SoulTheeBreastsRave Book:The Works of Robert Browning Source: The Works of Robert Browning