revenge

A man of your valor deserves not another breath.

Hark, villains! I will grind your bones to dust. (Act V, Scene 2, 2503)

Cries for justice are often the bitter laments of the vengeful.

But men often mistake killing and revenge for justice. They seldom have the stomach for justice.

Wendy is still dead. I hadn't understood before: it really doesn't bring them back. Somehow, you think, despite what you know, it will be a trade. Find the person who did the wrong thing and they will suffer instead of the one who was killed. Instead, that person just suffers too.

Only remember this: to seek justice is a good and noble thing, to seek revenge out of hatred is something that wiil devour your very soul.

There is no such thing as justice, all the best that we can hope for is revenge.

Briarwood is the pretty poison. There is no cure for Briarwood.

The justice I have received, I shall give back.

If karma doesn't catch up, God will surely pick up the slack.

Sure, sometimes you gotta let things go, but other times you can't till you set things right. And I know darn well it ain't worth arguing with a preacher. The only truths they believe are their own words.

As readers, we are seldom interested in the fine sentiments of a lesson learnt; we seldom care about the good manners of morals. Repentance puts an end to conversation; forgiveness becomes the stuff of moralistic tracts. Revenge - bloodthirsty, justice-hungry revenge - is the very essence of romance, lying at the heart of much of the best fiction.

Before you take that first curious, coerced, spiteful, or vengeful step forward, remember this: it__ a thousand times easier to slip into a muddy pit than it is to climb out of one.

You cannot disown what is yours. Flung out, there is always the return, the reckoning, the revenge, perhaps the reconciliation. There is always the return. And the wound will take you there.

It's my opinion, with some people, just knowing they are alone, living inside of their own miserable, self hating, dysfunctional mind, with their own immature, insecure, self pitying self is its own revenge. Their existence is their karma.

I__ clenching my fists so tight my fingernails leave red crescent moons on my skin. I feel a surge, a heat roar up inside me. As bad as I__ hurting now, he__l hurt ten times worse. That__ the only thing that keeps me going.

I can't get his bonesto go down the fucking drain.I try to stuff the tiny holes,too tiny for this pain.I can't get his bonesto break any way for my gain.Break them back a little too far,never too far for the sake of sane.

One thing, though," Qhuinn murmured."What?"The voice that came out his throat was unlike anything he'd ever heard from himself before. "If any guy breaks your heart or treats you like shit, I will bust him apart with my bare hands and leave his broken, bloody body for the sun."Blay's laughter rumbled around the tiled walls. "Of course you will--""I'm dead fucking serious."Blay's blue eyes shot over his shoulder."If there are any who dare to hurt you," Qhuinn growled in the Old Language, "I shall see them staked afore me and shall leave their bodies in ruin.