rage

She was beginning to recognize it as the feeling of anger taken to such a level it was no longer possible to separate it from any other emotion or thought. In a way, it was a liberating sensation.

She is so white-hot furious she can barely see. She stokes the fire of her hatred, feeding it tidbits about bigoted Dina and spineless mushmouth Ralph, because she knows that just beyond the rage is a sorrow so enervating it could render her immobile. She needs to keep moving, flickering around the room. She needs o fill her bags and get the hell out of here.

Some people take offense like it's a limited time offer.

Aggression like this demanded slinging the first punch in a bar brawl, firing rounds at a range, or setting a car on fire.

Whatever thing a man gets quickly enraged about is his idol, and whatever thing he makes his idol becomes his religion.

Rage colors her every movement. Rage that has nothing to do with her so-called bodyguards and everything to do with me and her and the confusion rolling around inside the both of us. This should be interesting

Since boyhood, fury had become his father. His older brother. His only protector. Fury gave him strength and courage and spurred him to always move forward despite always getting things wrong and always failing and no mentor there to help him or teach him and everyone always laughing. Anger delivered him from catastrophe. Rage kept him from going under. It had come to be his greatest asset and only strategy.

It's important that you don't continue to ignore or accept rages. Realize that extreme rage directed at you or your children is verbal and emotional abuse. Even if you think you can handle it, over time it can erode your self-esteem and poison the relationship. Seek support immediately.

It was nothing less than murder, in her eyes

The purge is made to release the aggression, anger, rage everything just in on place.

Here__ the thing, people: We have some serious problems. The lights are off. And it seems like that__ affecting the water flow in part of town. So, no baths or showers, okay? But the situation is that we think Caine is short of food, which means he__ not going to be able to hold out very long at the power plant.___ow long?_ someone yelled.Sam shook his head. __ don__ know.___hy can__ you get him to leave?___ecause I can__, that__ why,_ Sam snapped, letting some of his anger show. __ecause I__ not Superman, all right? Look, he__ inside the plant. The walls are thick. He has guns, he has Jack, he has Drake, and he has his own powers. I can__ get him out of there without getting some of our people killed. Anybody want to volunteer for that?"Silence.__eah, I thought so. I can__ get you people to show up and pick melons, let alone throw down with Drake.___hat__ your job,_ Zil said.__h, I see,_ Sam said. The resentment he__ held in now came boiling to the surface. __t__ my job to pick the fruit, and collect the trash, and ration the food, and catch Hunter, and stop Caine, and settle every stupid little fight, and make sure kids get a visit from the Tooth Fairy. What__ your job, Zil? Oh, right: you spray hateful graffiti. Thanks for taking care of that, I don__ know how we__ ever manage without you.___am_,_ Astrid said, just loud enough for him to hear. A warning.Too late. He was going to say what needed saying.__nd the rest of you. How many of you have done a single, lousy thing in the last two weeks aside from sitting around playing Xbox or watching movies?__et me explain something to you people. I__ not your parents. I__ a fifteen-year-old kid. I__ a kid, just like all of you. I don__ happen to have any magic ability to make food suddenly appear. I can__ just snap my fingers and make all your problems go away. I__ just a kid.__s soon as the words were out of his mouth, Sam knew he had crossed the line. He had said the fateful words so many had used as an excuse before him. How many hundreds of times had he heard, ____ just a kid.__ut now he seemed unable to stop the words from tumbling out. __ook, I have an eighth-grade education. Just because I have powers doesn__ mean I__ Dumbledore or George Washington or Martin Luther King. Until all this happened I was just a B student. All I wanted to do was surf. I wanted to grow up to be Dru Adler or Kelly Slater, just, you know, a really good surfer.__he crowd was dead quiet now. Of course they were quiet, some still-functioning part of his mind thought bitterly, it__ entertaining watching someone melt down in public.____ doing the best I can,_ Sam said.__ lost people today_I_I screwed up. I should have figured out Caine might go after the power plant.__ilence.____ doing the best I can.__o one said a word.Sam refused to meet Astrid__ eyes. If he saw pity there, he would fall apart completely.____ sorry,_ he said.____ sorry.

I just wanted silence, not rage, not anger, not going trouble... One simple thing silence!

I'd no room left in me for thinking of trifling things. I could feel fear start up and try to take down my rage, but I'd not give it up.

Inside Duquet something like a tightly closed pine cone licked by fire opened abruptly and he exploded with incensed and uncontrollable fury, a life__ pent-up rage. __o one helped me,_ he shrieked, __ did everything myself. I endured. I contended with powerful men. I suffered in the wilderness. I accepted the risk I might die. No one helped me!_ The boy__ gaze shifted, the fever-boiled eyes following Duquet__ rising arm closing only when the tomahawk split his brain.

To function successfully in our complex world it is necessary for us to possess the capacity not only to express our anger but also not to express it. Moreover, we must possess the capacity to express our anger in different ways. At times, for instance, it is necessary to express it only after much deliberation and self-evaluation. At other times it is more to our benefit to express it immediately and spontaneously. Sometimes it is best to express it coldly and calmly; at other times loudly and hotly.

But the anger has not only drawn attention to injustice; it has driven people to action, sparking movements and spurring them forward. At the very least, the public expression of black rage has allowed communities and people who have felt isolated in their own anger to know that they are not alone. Anger is what makes our struggle visible.

Anger ignites fires or do fires ignite anger? Did the dispossessed, their rage burning within them for years, finally strike a match to enlighten an oblivious region of their dissatisfaction? Or were the fires the primary cause of the dissatisfaction, inciting through its searing heat, the fury which is colouring the country a bright crimson, as its people imitating the violence of the flames spill the blood of thousands?

I kept a straight face while my inner Neanderthal spluttered and then went on a mental rampage through a hypothetical produce section, knocking over shelves and spattering fruit everywhere in sheer frustration, screaming, 'JUST TELL ME WHOSE SKULL TO CRACK WITH MY CLUB, DAMMIT!