Get Angry At Yourself Quotes

You get anxious about confronting somebody in your life. That anxiety cripples you and you start wondering why you're so anxious. Now you're becoming anxious about being anxious. Oh no! Doubly anxious! Now you're anxious about your anxiety, which is causing more anxiety. Quick, where's the whiskey?
Or let's say you have an anger problem. You get pissed off at the stupidest, most inane stuff, and
you have no idea why. And the fact that you get pissed off so easily starts to piss you off even more.
And then, in your petty rage, you realize that being angry all the time makes you a shallow and mean person, and you hate this; you hate it so much that you get angry at yourself. Now look at you: you're angry at yourself getting angry about being angry. Fuck you, wall. Here, have a fist.
Or you're so worried about doing the right thing all the time that you become worried about how much you're worrying. Or you feel so guilty for every mistake you make that you begin to feel guilty about how guilty you're feeling. Or you get sad and alone so often that it makes you feel even more sad and alone just thinking about it.
..Welcome to the feedback loop from hell. ~ Mark Manson

Never get angry. If you have to get angry, get angry at yourself and not at others. ~ Debasish Mridha

We don't even know what's going on in the rest of the world. All we can do is-is play Scooby-Doo in the cellar."
"That's not all we can do, Sophie," Archer said.
Whenever Archer used my first name, I knew he was serious. "What do you mean?"
He backed up a few steps. "Look, you want the Casnoffs gone and these kids saved, or at least…well, put out of their misery, I guess. You don't want anyone to raise demons ever again. There are other people who want those things, too."
"Please tell me you are not talking about The Eye."
He looked away and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm just saying that you and The Eye have a common goal here."
I wasn't sure if I was stunned, or angry, or disgusted. It was kind of a mixture of all three. "Okay, is there a gas leak down here? Or did you hit your head on the tunnel? Because that's really the only excuse for you saying something so freaking stupid."
"Oh, you're right, Mercer," he said. "The idea of a trying to fight an army of demons with a bunch of trained soldiers is beyond ridiculous. Maybe we can go get Nausicaa and see if she'll give us some faerie dust to make the problem go away."
"Don't be a jackass," I snapped.
"Then don't be naïve," he retorted. "This is too big for us to handle, Sophie. This is too big for Prodigium to deal with on their own. But if we could all work together, there's a chance that-"
"What do you think, Cross? That we'll ask The Eye to help us, and they'll be ~ Rachel Hawkins

That's probably when I get the most angry at American movies, when they just so cynically manipulate the audience without even trying to give a good story. ~ Gene Siskel

If you end up doing only one thing from this entire book, let it be this: stop being angry with yourself. That alone is enough to radically alter your health, your relationships, your job, and your life. Don't be angry with yourself for not saying the right thing. Don't be angry with yourself for forgetting to do something you said you would do. Don't be angry with yourself for not finishing that project as fast as everyone else at work. Don't be angry with yourself for finishing school late, for being unemployed, for being single. Don't be angry with yourself for not saying what you wanted to say or not doing what you wanted to do. Regardless of what choices you have made, let go of the habit of self-anger. It doesn't serve you. It never has and it never will. ~ Emily Maroutian

When you're in morgue you're seeing life that no longer exists. It gives you an appreciation when you look someone in the eye, you shake their hand, and you hug your friends, your girlfriend, your family. It just gives you an appreciation for the life that surrounds you. At the same time you understand how fragile it is. That you don't need to be an idiot or get so angry at times. ~ Milo Ventimiglia

I pretend to reach for them, but before he can guess my intentions, I catch one of his wings instead. He flutters, trying to break loose, his one free wing batting my hand.
I draw out the decanter and stuff him into it, careful to fold his wings. I don't want to hurt him. I just want to better him.
Once he's settled inside, I shove a paper towel into the bottle's neck. No need to worry that he'll smother. After all, he spent that night in a bug trap last year and survived.
"Looks like you're going to have some turbulence on your flight," I tell him through the glass.
His voice fills my head, an angry, scolding growl. When I don't respond, he yells Chessie's name. Chessie flits over to the car and sits on the side mirror, licking his paw, amused and uninterested in taking sides.
I hold the decanter up to get a closer look at Morpheus. "Game, set, match, luv. You do realize that my human side defeated you, right? No magic required."
Unlike a real moth that would beat itself against the glass walls until exhausted, he hangs under the curved neck, dignified, glaring with his bulbous eyes. If he had a mouth instead of a proboscis, I'd be able to tell if he's snarling or beaming with pride. Knowing him, it could be either. Most likely, it's both. ~ A.G. Howard

Because the truth was, and we both knew it, he'd gone long, long ago. I'd just made him stick around when he really wanted to be somewhere else. In his own weird way, he was another victim of the shooting, One of the ones who couldn't get away.
"Are you mad?" he asked, which I thought was a really strange question.
"Yes," I said. And I was. It's just that I wasn't so sure I was mad at him. But I don't think he needed to hear that part. I don't think he wanted to hear that part. I think it was important to him to hear that I cared enough to be angry.
"Will you ever forgive me?" he asked.
"Will you ever forgive me?" I shot back, leveling my gaze directly into his eyes.
He stared into them for a few moments then got up silently and headed for the door. He didn't turn around when he reached it. Just grabbed the doorknob and held it.
"No," he said without facing me. "Maybe that makes me a bad parent, but I don't know if I can. No matter what the police found, you were involved in that shooting, Valerie. You wrote those names on that list. You wrote my name on that list. You had a good life here. You might not have pulled the trigger, but you helped cause the tragedy."
He opened the door."I'm sorry. I really am." He stepped out into the hallway. "I'll leave my new address and phone number with your mother," he said before walking slowly out of my sight. ~ Jennifer Brown

You do realize, that if you actually dated her, saw her on a regular basis, lived with her, that she would find some fault with you, right? That she would find some things about you that drove her crazy. That she'd make demands of you that you wouldn't like. That she'd get angry at you? ~ Gillian Flynn

Her mother had come a week after the baby died, the only time Annie had seen her since she'd left Kansas. Her hair gone white, her dress starched stiff, her small hands as dry as paper. Annie had wanted her mother to make it better. What she got was "God decides what's right for us" and a butter cake she'd packed from home, made by someone in the congregation. Maybe something truthful, some real emotion from her mother, might have been a small bridge Annie could have crossed. But hers had been a family of hidden feelings, held tongues. "Life is so hard out here," her mother had said, unable to wipe the sigh from her voice, the disapproval, as if the Panhandle - Annie's choice - was somehow to blame for the baby's death. Annie had been too grief-tired to get angry, but she had had the thought, when she looked at her mother's stolid face, that she would probably never see her ~ Rae Meadows

Highwaymen?" she asked, and couldn't hide the hopeful note from her tone.
"In the middle of the day?"
"So they're desperate."
Being robbed wouldn't be pleasant, but it would actually be preferable compared to an angry criminal running them down from his stolen property.
"That would be the logical assumption, Becca,if we didn't just leave the house of a confirmed mass murderer."
"So you did find the evidence you were after?"
"It's in the book I asked you to smuggle out. Considering how quickly we left,my guess would be that Mary Pearson immediately mentioned to her husband that she'd put you in their bedroom, and that I entered it as well. Samuel would have gone straight upstairs in that case to check on the imcriminating ledger he'd carelessly left lying on the desk."
"And found it gone," she said with a resigned sigh.
"Don't sound so aggrieved. We'll be fine."
She could have screamed at him like a harpy for that ridiculous assessment. With two more shots fired at them, her fear was rising fast. It had been the same back at the Pearson house. The moment Rupert had warned that he'd disabled one of the servants,meaning they could be found out at any moment, her nausea had abruptly ended. Incredible. Did the sudden rush of fear do that? Not that she was going to seek out things to frighten her just to get through this pregnancy a little easier, but it as an interesting side effect. She could at least test the theory at home by having ~ Johanna Lindsey

But if you miss it, you will next be confronted with the angry deities, ... threatening you and barring your passage ... because you turned a deaf ear to the saving truths of religion. All these forms are strange to you, ... they terrify you, ... and yet it is you who have created them. Do not give in to your fright, ... flee them not! They are but ... the contents of your own mind ... If at this point you should manage to understand that, ... and you will find yourself in a paradise among the angels. ~ Gautama Buddha

If I could get angry at you, I would try to kill every one of you. If that's guilt, I accept it. ~ Charles Manson

Beliefs are a powerful thing. I often travel the world and sometimes the local waitresses attending me are nervous if they can't speak English. Now, when this happens, I point at the pictures in the menu. However, I've noticed that the ones with the strongest beliefs, the most nervous ones, still do a mistake in my order. Another interesting things to notice in these situations is that, when I correct them, by pointing again at what I ordered before, they recognize their mistake, but get angry, as if their mistake was my fault, and that's called irresponsibility. Now, when you combine irresponsibility with the wrong beliefs, you have a a very dumb person. That's what stupidity is, it's a human being doing the wrong things with the wrong beliefs and never ever accepting any responsibility for it. That's how those with the lowest spiritual conscience behave in general with themselves and others. ~ Robin Sacredfire

We often ask, why is it that we can love animals so readily and simply? It is because it is almost impossible to get angry at them, they cannot disappoint or offend; in their spontaneity, they are very much like small, helpless children, harmless, sincere. Above all, when their survival depends on man's care, they become touchingly and actually inhumanly loyal. ~ Stanka Gjurić

I'm sorry, did you just say your boyfriend ditched you to go shoe shopping?" my mom asks her.

Charlotte sighs and crosses her arms in front of her. "He didn't ditch me. I told him he could go because I was tired."

"You don't really mean shoe shopping right? You meant to say shopping for sports equipment or a new surround sound system, right?" Aunt Liz asks.

"He told us his favorite book of all time was Under the Rainbow: The Real Liza Minnelli. I'm pretty sure shoe shopping would be right up his alley," Mom reminds her.

"Has Rocco gotten the memo yet that he's gay?" Aunt Liz questions her.

Tyler starts laughing hysterically and reaches his hand up to fist-bump my aunt.

"Seriously, Mom? Are you judging him? That's really low," Charlotte complains.

"I'm not judging him. Some of the best people I've ever met are gay. I just don't particularly want my daughter dating someone who's gay."

Charlotte stomps her foot and growls at Liz, and I have to tell myself not to get too excited. I love seeing her get fired up. Her cheeks turn pink and her eyes sparkle. Now is NOT the time to get a boner.

"He is NOT gay! He's just … he's in touch with his feminine side."

Tyler snorts and Charlotte shoots an angry look in his direction.

"Honey, he doesn't have a feminine side. He has a vagina," Aunt Liz informs her. ~ Tara Sivec

Finally I began to get angry. I wanted to make someone pay. I wanted to strike back at the world and make the world know I was alive. ~ Stephen King

When you feel angry or frustrated at a brother for using a particular defense -- being controlling or whatever it is -- you are failing to forgive yourself for the very same attempt; you still believe that the defense has a reality. You are seeing it out there but when you start to pull it back to your mind, you start to see the control in yourself. The guilt from transferring it from one seeming person/body to another seeming person/body is enormous. Instead of blaming your brother, the blame gets turned onto your own seeming body, but it is still the same error. We have to see that I am mind; this identity that I took off of my brother but still saw in myself is also just a construct in my mind. Otherwise, what good is the transfer? ~ David Hoffmeister

Majesty,
A frozen swamp. Icicles on branches and uprooted trees. That was our crystal palace, once upon a time. I was your king and you were my queen. I promised you I'd always try to give you your desires. I meant that. And since you wanted Derek, I tried to get him for you. I tried to get Derek to see how beautiful, sweet and amazing you are, in spite of myself, in spite of my rending heart. He never saw you the way I did, and you never saw me at all. I thought maybe if I found love with someone else, I'd be rid of my feelings for you, but that empty relationship only made me long for you more. I've offered you the most support and devotion a person can give an unwanting heart, but all I get in return are your mocking advances, which blatantly scream and reiterate the fact that you'll never love me. It's been so excruciating to be around you lately. You're always teasing me, and it kills me. That's why I've been so irritable and angry. It's inconceivable to me how you could think I'd EVER hurt you, when all I've been living for is to try and make you happy. Well, I'm done. Your doubt has caused me more pain than anything I've ever known. I always thought we'd be life-long friends, but this fairytale has no happy ending. The crystal has shattered. I can't be your king anymore. Then again, I never really was. I've always been the lowly jester. And everyone knows a fool can never be with a queen.

Goodbye, Alec ~ Courtney Vail

We talk like we know what's going on, but we don't. We don't know anything. We're really young and we're gonna screw up a lot. We're gonna keep changing our minds and even sometimes our hearts. And through all that, the only real thing we can offer each other is forgiveness. I couldn't do that. Or at least, I did it too late. Don't make my mistake. Don't let yourself be so angry you stop loving. Because one day you'll wake up from that anger and the person you love will be gone. ~ Kevin Williamson

I understand addiction now. I never did before, you know. How could a man (or a woman) do something so self-destructive, knowing that they're hurting not only themselves, but the people they love? It seemed that it would be so incredibly easy for them to just not take that next drink. Just stop. It's so simple, really. But as so often happens with me, my arrogance kept me from seeing the truth of the matter.
I see it now though.
Every day, I tell myself it will be the last. Every night, as I'm falling asleep in his bed, I tell myself that tomorrow I'll book a flight to Paris, or Hawaii, or maybe New York. It doesn't matter where I go, as long as it's not here. I need to get away from Phoenix - away from him - before this goes even one step further.
And then he touches me again, and my convictions disappear like smoke in the wind.
This cannot end well. That's the crux of the matter, Sweets. I've been down this road before - you know I have - and there's only heartache at the end. There's no happy ending waiting for me like there was for you and Matt. If I stay here with him, I will become restless and angry. It's happening already, and I cannot stop it. I'm becoming bitter and terribly resentful. Before long, I will be intolerable, and eventually, he'll leave me. But if I do what I have to do, what my very nature compels me to do, and move on, the end is no better. One way or another, he'll be gone. Is it not wiser to end it now, Sweets, before it gets to t ~ Marie Sexton

But I promise you, you guys can do it. In four days you'll be the happiest person Earth has ever seen. You'll stand by the ocean and feel the salty sea spray tingling in your nose. You'll be with people you know and love, and you'all appreciate how beautiful everything is. You'll se cars behind you in your rear view mirror, and maybe you'll laugh at the driver's faces. Because they'll look annoyed, bored, angry. And you'll realize what they're missing. You'll live a long and happy life, Mia. Because when you get home, you'll realize that anything is possible. You mustn't ever forget that. ~ Johan Harstad

He stared at Wolfe. "When you attack me you have to make it look real." Wolfe's face tightened. Kir sighed heavily, his lip curling up almost condescendingly. "I mean it, Wolfe."

I wasn't surprised when Wolfe made no response. Clearly, he didn't want Kir to get hurt.

Coming to the same conclusion I had drawn, Kir pulled back his shoulders, his own expression determined. There was a dark, mischievousness in his eyes, I didn't trust.

"Fine." He shook his head, throwing Wolfe a warning look. "Then I guess I'll have to make you want to."

When his long arm came out and caught me around the waist I squawked in undignified surprise and instinctively pushed against his hard chest as he crushed me to him, his other hand winding into my hair to bring my lips against his in a hard, punishing kiss.

(...)Quite abruptly that muffled exclamation was given free reign as his body was wrenched from mine, soaring across the room and straight through the door.

That's right. Straight through the door. Not the doorway. The door.

I gaped in befuddlement at Kir collapsed around the wooden splinters of the door in the hall, groaning as he drew himself up into a sitting position.

"Come on." I blinked down at the large familiar hand wrapped around my wrist and then up at its owner. Wolfe. A really angry Wolfe. ~ Samantha Young

Willow turned her gaze from him as he sat down on the bed and smoothed her tangled hair off her face. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you, sweetheart. Are you all right now?"
Willow couldn't help flinching from his touch. "Of course I'm all right," she snapped.
Rider jerked his hand back as if bitten. "Freckles, honey, is something wrong, something you're not telling me?"
The angry redhead shrugged. "What could possibly be wrong?"
"I don't know. You just seem a little....out of sorts."
Bastard, she silently cursed. But aloud she said, "I'm fine. Just tired, I guess."
"Do you want me to bring your supper to you in here? I'd be happy to keep you company."
"I would like to have my supper in here but don't bother yourself on my account. I'm sure you have things to discuss with Pa and the boys."
Rider stood abruptly, obviously at a loss over her attitude. "Fine,Willow, if that's what you want."
"It is."
He opened the door to leave but halted when she called, "Rider."
"Yes?"
"You better move your things in with one of the boys. Miriam is sharing my bed tonight."
"Tonight? But I'm leaving tomorrow and won't be back until-"
"Really,Rider, it's only for one night and I ain't,er, am not in any shape for fooling around!"
"I know that," he bit out, his ire piqued now. "I just thought it might be nice to hold you."
With that, he slammed out the door and Willow broke into tears. Before they stopped, her head was p ~ Charlotte McPherren

Why do we get so angry at ourselves when we eat foods we love? Do you think guys walk around going, 'I just ate a cheeseburger and I'm so mad at myself?' ~ Martina Mcbride

Look, look, we tell each other. It's Tom!

He's Mr. Bellamy to his history students. But he's Tom to us. Tom! It's so good to see him. So wonderful to see him. Tom is one of us. Tom went through it all with us. Tom made it through. He was there in the hospital with so many of us, the archangel of St. Vincent's, our healthier version, prodding the doctors and calling over the nurses and holding our hands and holding the hands of our partners, our parents, our little sisters - anyone who had a hand to be held. He had to watch so many of us die, had to say goodbye so many times. Outside of our rooms he would get angry, upset, despairing. But when he was with us, it was like he was powered solely by an engine of grace. Even the people who loved us would hesitate at first to touch us - more from the shock of our diminishment, from the strangeness of how we were both gone and present, not who we were but still who we were. Tom became used to this. First because of Dennis, the way he stayed with Dennis until the very end. He could have left after that, after Dennis was gone. We wouldn't have blamed him. But he stayed. When his friends got sick, he was there. And for those of us he'd never know before - he was always a smile in the room, always a touch on the shoulder, a light flirtation that we needed. The y should have made him a nurse. They should have made him mayor. He lost years of his life to us, although that's not the story he'd tell. He would say he gained. And he ~ David Levithan

Her last words have been the law of my life:

Andrew, if I should not see you again, I wish you to remember and treasure up some things I have already said to you: in this world you will have to make your own way. To do that you must have friends. You can make friends by being honest, and you can keep them by being steadfast. You must keep in mind that friends worth having will in the long run expect as much from you as they give to you. To forget an obligation or be ungrateful for a kindness is a base crime-not merely a fault or a sin, but an actual crime. Men guilty of it sooner or later must suffer the penalty. In personal conduct be always polite but never obsequious. None will respect you more than you respect yourself. Avoid quarrels as long as you can without yielding to imposition. But sustain your manhood always. Never bring a suit in law for assault and battery or for defamation. The law affords no remedy for such outrages that can satisfy the feelings of a true man. Never wound the feelings of others. Never brook wanton outrage upon your own feelings. If you ever have to vindicate your feelings or defend your honor, do it calmly. If angry at first, wait until your wrath cools before you proceed. ~ Jon Meacham

The necklace, Marcos," she said firmly, leveling the gun at his heart once more. "I'll take it now."

"It's not here, querida. You waste your time."

Francesca lowered the gun to point at his groin. "Killing you would be too good. Perhaps I will simply have to deprive the female world of your ability to make love ever again. I am quite a good shot, I assure you."

She'd learned out of necessity. And though she never wanted to harm another human being, she had no compunction about making this man think she would do so if it meant she could save Jacques.

His voice dropped to a growl. A hateful, angry growl. "You won't get away with this. Whoever you are, Frankie, I will find you. I will find you and make you wish you'd never met me."

Her heart flipped in her chest. She ignored it. "I already wish that. Now give me the jewel before you lose the ability to ever have children."

Bitterness twisted inside her as she said those words. Ironic to threaten someone with something she would never wish on another soul. But she had to be hard, cold, ruthless – just like he was.

He stared at her in impotent fury, his jaw grinding, his beautiful black eyes flashing daggers at her. Very slowly, he reached up with one hand and slipped his bowtie free of its knot.

Then he jerked it loose and let it fall. ~ Lynn Raye Harris

You know something, it's not easy to break out of your comfort zone. People will tear you down, tell you you shouldn't have bothered in the first place. But let me tell you something, there's not much of a difference between a stadium full with cheering fans and an angry crowd screaming abuse at you. They're both just making a lot of noise. How you take it is up to you. Convince yourself they're cheering for you. You do that, and someday, they will. ~ Glee

We are now considering legislation based on statistics that include name-calling at public rallies as crimes. Are we going on to the school yards of this country and when two kids get angry with each other and call each other names
what are we going to do, cart them over to the reformatory or add them to the list of 'hate crimes' perpetrators? This is ridiculous. ~ Jesse Helms

Obviously, the first place I go is Sanctuary. The omegas scatter like flies as I stalk through the doors, pausing to inspect the fact one is hanging precariously to the side.

Bobo rounds the corner with a toolbox, smiling over at me before, he bows at the waist.

"What happened here?" I ask when he straightens from the weird bow.

He shrugs, and I remember he's fucking mute.

Right.

Guess I'll get answers elsewhere.

Leiza freezes when she rounds the corner and spots me.

"What happened to the front door?" I ask her.

She turns and darts inside a wall. Bloody hell. I'm not wearing an angry expression, am I?

I check the mirror, finding no major scare factor. I'm fucking devilishly good looking and my smile is positively charming.

Usually she's less skittish around me. At least in recent days.

Shera is coming down the stairs, but she oddly pales when she sees me.

What happened to front door?" I ask her.

I've never seen my beta run so fast.

"I'll let Violet tell you about it," she calls over her shoulder. "Gotta run, Boss."

Again, I check the mirror.

Good hair.

Perfect teeth.

Excellent outfit.

Not a fucking clue what's going on.

Typically, I enjoy instilling that sort of terror, but I'm still in trouble with Violet, and she doesn't like her Sanctuary members feeling sc ~ Kristy Cunning

Imagine if somebody were to really sit down with Osama bin Ladin and say, 'Listen man, what is it that you're so angry at me about that you're willing to have people strap bombs to themselves, or get inside of airplanes and fly them into buildings?' That would be the miracle if we can get
sit down and talk to our enemies and find a way for them to hear us. ~ Matthew Modine

Anyone can get angry, but to do this to the right person, to the right extent, at the right time, with the right motive, and in the right way, that is not for everyone, nor is it easy. ~ Aristotle.

The trouble is that, for women, being "nice" often translates into putting up with things we should never put up with. How many times has some creep sat uncomfortably close to me on the bus and stared me down, yet I'm too afraid to just get up and move, lest I offend him?
We smile when we're harassed on the street or hit on by jerks. We laugh at sexist jokes. We learn that when we have strong opinions, we'll be called bitches and that if we get angry, we'll be called hysterical. When we say what we want, we're called pushy or aggressive.
Part of learning "ladylike" behavior is about learning to smile politely when someone is being crude. Femininity has long been attached to passivity and to being docile. Men fight, women giggle and fume silently. ~ Unknown

So, what's the plan?" I asked as I sat down at the table not really big enough for two. Liam grabbed my bag and tossed it onto the table. "First we unpack, and then I expect to see you on your knees." After the exchange with Diaz my brain automatically went somewhere very, very bad. "W-w-what?" I could feel the blush stretching over every inch of my body. Seriously, I think my feet were even embarrassed and angry. "I'm not ... I won't ... " I knew the moment Liam realized what I was thinking because his face also shot up in flames. "No! Not ... That." He looked as though he was having some sort of episode, like maybe an aneurysm. "You were supposed to get down on your knees and beg me for forgiveness because you were wrong about the pizza guy. I don't want ... I mean, I wasn't asking you to
" I held up a hand. "Please don't say it. I think we've both been traumatized enough. ~ Tammy Blackwell

I don't get angry very often, but there have been times when I have been frustrated with myself, maybe after playing a bad shot, after getting out, I have done some damage to some equipment of mine. Once or twice in the course of 20 years - I think you can allow me that at least. ~ Rahul Dravid

What I've learned is that everything in life - and I mean, even the worst of it - can be turned into grace...the test is - for even one moment in our lives - not to strike back at something, no matter how bad it gets...when you're faced with the temptation to get angry or upset and to hit back - you just don't do it. You let the temptation roll over you and not touch you. The idea is not to add to the collective pain...and by not doing so, you make the world a better place. ~ Kira Salak

Anxiously attached Codependents demonstrate the ability to maximize the attention they get from their partner, regardless of whether it is positive or negative (i.e., "I'd rather be screamed at than ignored"). Manipulation is used to keep the inattentive or inconsistent partner involved by alternating dramatic angry demands with needy dependence. When the partner is preoccupied and not paying attention, the anxious Codependent explodes in angry demands and behaviors that cannot be ignored. ~ Mary Crocker Cook

Another voice rages.
I hate that boy! I hate me! I am so incredibly stupid!
A sunflower leans over the fence, smiling
How dare you!
I rip off its head and throw it in the gutter.
The smart thing to do is to keep going on. Walk away quickly and no one will know what I've done. But I can't move because my eyes are locked on the slowly opening front door - locked on Mrs Muir.
'I'm sorry.' My tiny voice sounds so pathetically lame, but I've still got more lameness for her. 'I never do this sort of thing. I like sunflowers. I was just angry about something - nothing to do with you or the flower. I'm really, really sorry.'
'Oh, you are upset! Well, never mind'. Mrs Muir comes closer to me. 'Goodness, we all get cross. The main thing is: did it make you feel any better?'
'No. Yes. Maybe. A little bit.'
'Would you like to do another one? There's more out the back, too. You go for your life dear. I don't mind at all - they need a good pruning. ~ Bill Condon

The little girl, seeing she had lost one of her pretty shoes, grew angry, and said to the Witch, "Give me back my shoe!" "I will not," retorted the Witch, "for it is now my shoe, and not yours." "You are a wicked creature!" cried Dorothy. "You have no right to take my shoe from me." "I shall keep it, just the same," said the Witch, laughing at her, "and someday I shall get the other one from you, too." This made Dorothy so very angry that she picked up the bucket of water that stood near and dashed it over the Witch, wetting her from head to foot. Instantly the wicked woman gave a loud cry of fear, and then, as Dorothy looked at her in wonder, the Witch began to shrink and fall away. "See what you have done!" she screamed. "In a minute I shall melt away. ~ L. Frank Baum

If I'm confused, or upset, or angry, if I can go out and look at the stars I'll almost always get back a sense of proportion. It's not that they make me feel insignificant; it's the very opposite; they make me feel that everything matters, be it ever so small, and that there's meaning to life even when it seems most meaningless. ~ Madeleine L'Engle

There's a hardness I'm seeing in modern people. Those little moments of goofiness that used to make the day pass seem to have gone. Life's so serious now. Maybe it's just because I'm with an older gang now.[...]I mean nobody even has hobbies these days. Not that I can see. Husbands and wives both work. Kids are farmed out to schools and video games. Nobody seems able to endure simply being themselves, either - but at the same time they're isolated. People work much more, only go home and surf the Internet and send e-mail rather than calling or writing a note or visiting each other. They work, watch TV, and sleep. I see these things. The world is only about work: work work work get get get...racing ahead...getting sacked from work...going online...knowing computer languages...winning contracts. I mean, it's just not what I would have imagined the world might be if you'd asked me seventeen years ago. People are frazzled and angry, desperate about money, and, at best, indifferent to the future. ~ Douglas Coupland

Isn't she doing this too? Connecting and disconnecting. Facing grief then turning from it. One minute she is caught up in minutiae. Will her feet get sore standing in heels at the church? Have they made enough food? Will the kitten get scared by dozens of strangers in the house? Should she shut him in a room upstairs? The next moment she is weeping uncontrollably, taken over by pain so profound she can barely move. Then there was the salad bowl incident; her own fury scared her. But maybe these are different ways of dealing with events for all of them. Molly and Luke are infantile echos of her, their emotions paired down, their reactions simpler but similar. For if they have difficulty taking in what has happened, then so too does she. Why is she dressing up, for instance? Why can't she wear clothes to reflect the fact that she is at her lowest end? A tracksuit, a jumper full of holes, dirty jeans? Why can't she leave her hair a mess, her face unmade up? The crazed and grieving Karen doesn't care about her appearance. Yet she must go through with this charade, polish herself and her children to perfection. She, in particular, must hold it together. Oh, she can cry, yes, that's allowed. People expect that. They will sympathize. But what about screaming, howling, and hurling plates like she did yesterday? She imagines the shocked faces as she shouts and swears and smashes everything. But she is so angry, surely others must feel the same. Maybe a plate throwing ceremony would be ~ Sarah Rayner

I only get angry at my brothers and at my father. ~ Malala Yousafzai