Mad At Someone Quotes

I think that it's okay to be mad at someone who hurt you. This isn't about, like, the pageantry of trying to seem like nothing affects you. ~ Taylor Swift

How could you get mad at someone who neither needed to attack nor was at all worried about being able to defend? It was like getting mad at Switzerland. ~ Karl Marlantes

I think you can only be truly mad at someone you really love. ~ E.L. James

It is a sign of arrogance to be mad at someone for not acting as per your advice, especially if it was unsolicited. ~ Mokokoma Mokhonoana

Being mad at someone for acting exactly the way you assume they'll act is no one's fault but your own. ~ Sarah Addison Allen

Today he was being reminded yet again of the obvious: The world doesn't give even the slightest damn about us or our petty problems. We never quite get that, do we? Our lives have been shattered - shouldn't the rest of us take notice? But no. To the outside world, Adam looked the same, acted the same, felt the same. We get mad at someone for cutting us off in traffic or for taking too long to order at Starbucks or for not responding exactly as we see fit, and we have no idea that behind their facade, they may be dealing with some industrial-strength shit. Their lives may be in pieces. They may be in the midst of incalculable tragedy and turmoil, and they may be hanging on to their sanity by a thread. ~ Harlan Coben

If you're mad at someone for being excited and inspired by your art then you're doing it wrong. ~ Azealia Banks

Maggie." He chuckled. "I can't really be mad at you in case you haven't noticed."
"I know, I know. The imprint," I said begrudgingly.
"No, not the imprint. It's you. You're so sweet and you care about everybody. You hate when people are upset with you. You love cream soda. It's kind of hard to be mad at someone who's like that. ~ Shelly Crane

It's funny how you can be mad at someone one moment and want to hug them the next. ~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh

I don't think you get to be mad at someone unless they come through for you. I don't think you have that luxury. I think you think you can be mad, but really you're just doing something else."

"What's that?"

"Waiting. ~ Laura Dave

We get mad at someone for cutting us off in traffic or for taking too long to order at Starbucks or for not responding exactly as we see fit, and we have no idea that behind their facade, they may be dealing with some industrial-strength shit. Their lives may be in pieces. They may be in the midst of incalculable tragedy and turmoil, and they may be hanging on to their sanity by a thread. But we don't care. We don't see. We just keep pushing. ~ Harlan Coben

I do not believe it possible for one to genuinely love Truth more than people (or vice versa). One might fall into the snare of loving the search more than people, or the pride of having exposed something or someone, but not the truth itself. For if you love Truth you love people; because to love people at all and without illusion, you must also love the truth about them. ~ Criss Jami

When is the last time you got angry at someone treating you with respect? ~ Joseph Shrand MD

She groaned and closed those eyes. "Do not look at me like that. You will make me smile, and I refuse to smile when I am attempting to stay mad at you. ~ Jenni James

This is one of mommy's friends, buddy," I told Gavin. (...)
"You're Mommy's fwiend?" he questioned.
Carter just nodded with his mouth open and no sound coming out. I'm pretty sure he didn't even hear Gavin. Someone could have asked him if he liked to watch gay porn while painting pictures of kittens and he would have nodded his head. Before anyone could react, Gavin pulled back one of his little fists of fury and slammed it right into Carters manhood. He immediately bent over at the waist, clutching his hands between his legs and gasping for breath.
"Oh my God! Gavin!" I yelled, as I scrambled over to him, bent down and turned him around to face me while my dad and Liz laughed like hyenas behind me.
"What is wrong with you? We don't hit people. EVER," I scolded.
While Carter tried to breathe again, my dad managed to stop laughing long enough to apologize.
"Sorry, Claire, that's probably my fault. I let Gavin watch "Fight Club" with me last night."
"Your fwiends got you sick the other night. You said he was your fwiend," Gavin explained, like it made all the sense in the world.
This just made my dad laugh even louder.
"Not helping, Dad," I growled through clenched teeth.
"You don't make my mommy sick, dicky-punk!"
Gavin yelled at Carter, putting his two little fingers up by his eyes, and then pointing them right at Carter just like Liz had done to him earlier.
"Jesus Christ," Carter wheezed. "Did he just th ~ Tara Sivec

I wonder if I don't give too much of myself to writing: I am always half where I am; the other half is feeding the furnace, kick-starting the heat of creativity. I am making love with someone but at the same time I'm noticing how this graceful hand across my belly might just fit in with the memory of lilacs in Albuquerque in 1974. ~ Natalie Goldberg

Sometimes, most times, when I think back to the people that I loved, the person that I was ... I feel like I'm reading the pages of a book written about
someone else's life.
I can't believe that was me. I can't believe that was you. I can't believe there was an us.
It's not that I regret it. It just doesn't feel like it happened to me and yet, I can't forget it.
I feel like it's still refracting and reflecting back on me, haunting me.
Jesus intercepted my mind, my thoughts, my mistakes, my shame. He's changed me from the inside out. But I'm afraid you still see the stain.
Lord, let them see my heart, look at You and Your still-in-progress work of art. Help us all to look beyond our burned bridges, charred reputations, scattered shards of memories, and gaze at the One who took on the weight of all the hate to find the freedom in redemption that we all crave. ~ Katie Kiesler

Sometimes my mother did practice but one thing led to another and sometimes she did not. The advice of the homely man was something of a curse. She would not practice at all if she could not practice right so that gradually she played less and less and sometimes not at all.
I used to think that things might have been different. Gieseking never played a scale and Glenn Gould hardly practiced at all, they would just look at the score and think and think and think. If the homely man had said to go away and think this would have been every bit as revolutionary a concept for a Konigsberg. Perhaps he even thought that you had to think. But you can't show someone how to think in an hour; you can give someone an exercise to take away. ~ Helen DeWitt

It is not easy to live with another person, at least it is not easy for me. It makes me realize how selfish I am. It has not been easy for me to love another person either, though I am getting better at it. I can be gentle for as long as a month at a time now, before I become selfish again. I used to try to study what it meant to love someone. I would write down quotations from the works of famous writers, writers who did not interest me otherwise, like Hippolyte Taine or Alfred de Musset. For instance, Taine said that to love is to make one's goal the happiness of another person. I would try to apply this to my own situation. But if loving a person meant putting him before myself, how could I do that? There seemed to be three choices: to give up trying to love anyone, to stop being selfish, or to learn how to love a person while continuing to be selfish. I did not think I could manage the first two, but I thought I could learn how to be just unselfish enough to love someone at least part of the time. ~ Lydia Davis

Imagining what it is like to be someone other than yourself is at the core of our humanity. It is the essence of compassion and the beginning of morality ~ Ian McEwan

I don't know if I have a brand. I just see myself as an athlete and a competitor, someone who just works really hard at trying to get better at golf. I guess I'm kind of the feel-good story who's seen every level of professional golf. ~ Zach Johnson

Disco bowling? Seriously? Is there such a thing?"
He laughed. "I've never been,but you mentioned bowling a few weeks ago,and I figured tonight of all nights I could go ahead and impress you with my mad lack of bowling skills.Besides which, you look way too hot to waste on trick-or-treaters.They have a costume competition-you're a shoo-in."
I laughed,giddy,and grabbed his hand to kiss his knuckles.I knew he'd rather stay at home,but he planned tonight around making me happy. And he wanted to show me off,which appealed to my vanity more than I cared to admit. Best. Boyfriend. Ever.
"Pictures,please?And if we're going disco bowling,you have to dress up."
He pretended to sigh,but his glamour hair grew out into a massive 'fro and I squealed with delight. Then it shifted into shorter hair with a yellow-blond side part. "I figure with an ascot and blue pants I can do a mean Fred to your Daphne,right?"
Tonight was perfect. ~ Kiersten White

Nursemaid, you mean? Someone who can sing me to sleep at bedtime, spoon
porridge into my mouth, and wipe my" - he hesitated just long enough to make both servants cringe with
dread - "chinif I dribble?"
"I haven't the voice for lullabies and I'm sure you're perfectly capable of wiping your own ... chin, ~ Teresa Medeiros

You were in business making meth? Do you have any idea what that drug does to people?"

We weren't givin' it away," Concise snaps. "If someone was fool enough to mess himself up, that was his problem."

I shake my head, disgusted. "If you build it, they will come."

If you build it," Concise says, "you cover your rent. If you build it, you pay off the loan sharks. If you build it, you put shoes on your kid's feet and food in his belly and maybe even show up every now and then with a toy that every other goddamn kid in the school already has." He looks up at me. "If you build it, maybe your son don't have to, when he grow up."

It is amazing -- the secrets you can keep, even when you are living in close quarters. "You didn't tell me."

Concise gets up and braces his hands against the upper bunk. "His mama OD'd. He lives with her sister, who can't always be bothered to take care of him. I try to send money so that I know he's eatin' breakfast and gettin' school lunch tickets. I got a little bank account for him, too. Jus' in case he don't want to be part of a street gang, you know? Jus' in case he want to be an astronaut or a football player or somethin'." He digs out a small notebook from his bunk. "I'm writin' him. A diary, like. So he know who his daddy is, by the time he learn to read."

It is always easier to judge someone than to figure out what might have pushed him to the point where he might do something ille ~ Jodi Picoult

L: You want me just to be your ... friend?
E: You want the truth? I think you're my guardian angel.
L: What?
E: Do you know what it's like to have someone crash into your life with no warning? When you landed in my office, I was like, Who the fuck is this? But you shook me up. You brought me back to life at a time when I was in limbo. You were just what I needed ...
You're just what I need.
L: Well I need you too. So we're even.
E: No, you don't need me. You're doing just fine.
L: Ok. Maybe I don't need you. But ... I want you. ~ Sophie Kinsella

I think, again, if someone wants to know what I believe then look at my life. I am pursuing Christ wholeheartedly 100 percent. I don't need a theologian or a set of man-made beliefs to guide me in my daily life. I'm grateful for people's opinions but I choose to surrender and to serve Christ and Christ alone and in that my life has changed. ~ Alan Chambers

Grey wasn't quite drunk, but he was far from sober when Rose entered his study later that evening. His heart stuttered at the sight of her, but his head…his head couldn't take any more.
"I've been drinking," he warned her, just in case his sprawled posture and missing cravat wasn't enough indication. "And I refuse to dance this ridiculous dance with you any more tonight."
"May I have a drink with you?"
He glanced up. She stood beside the sofa where he half sat, half lay. She looked like someone who'd just lost her best friend or puppy or something equally as tragic.
He sat up. "Of course." Never mind that it wasn't proper. Who the hell cared? They were well past proper. He was simply trying to hold on to sane.
She poured herself a substantial glass of sherry and took a seat on the chair nearest him. He sat quietly, nursing the remainder of whiskey in his glass while she took several sips from her own.
"Do you remember my come-out ball?" she asked after a few minutes.
"Of course." And he did. "I remember telling you that you looked lovely in pink."
She smiled. "You danced the first dance with me so I wouldn't have to dance with Papa."
"You were afraid the other girls would laugh at you if you danced with your father."
"They didn't laugh at me for dancing with you."
"No." He chuckled at took a drink. "I wager they didn't."
Rose sighed. "They thought you were so scandalous, you know. All night I had girls coming up to m ~ Kathryn Smith

At the top of the page I wrote my full name [ ... ] At the sight of it, many thoughts rushed through me, but I could write down only this: "I wish I could love someone so much that I would die from it." And then as I looked at this sentence a great deal of shame came over me and I wept and wept so much that the tears fell on the page and caused all the words to become one great big blur. ~ Jamaica Kincaid

I'm a sadist at heart, and I have learned that one of the cruelest things you can do to someone is to teach them something, and thereby cause them to question their ignorance and long-held beliefs. ~ Peter Masters

Peter is still amazed at the degree to which a certain widening gyre of accolades can change an artist's work, literally change it, not just the new stuff but the old as well, the pieces that have been around for a while, that have seemed "interesting" or "promising" but minor, until (not often, just once in a while) an artist is by some obscure consensus declared to have been neglected, misrepresented, ahead of his time. What's astonishing to Peter is the way the work itself seems to change, more or less in the way of a reasonably pretty girl who is suddenly treated as a beauty. Peculiar, clever Victoria Hwang is going to be in Artforum next month, and probably in the collections of the Whitney and the Guggenheim; Renee Zellweger - moonfaced, squinty-eyed, a character actress if ever there was one - was just on the cover of Vogue, looking ravishing in a silver gown. It is, of course, a trick of perception - the understanding that that funny little artist or that quirky-looking girl must be taken with new seriousness - but Peter suspects there's a deeper change at work. Being the focus of that much attention (and, yes, of that much money) seems to differently excite the molecules of the art or the actress or the politician. It's not just a phenomenon of altered expectations, it's a genuine transubstantiation, brought about by altered expectations. Renée Zellweger becomes a beauty, and would look like a beauty to someone who had never heard of her. Victoria Hwang's videos and ~ Michael Cunningham

Seriously, why do you read that crap?" asked the girl.
Book Boy snapped his volume shut and removed his glasses from his nose. "I speak the truth! In all of these books the girls are throwing themselves at the romantic heroes- romantic heroes who are dead, ho drink human blood. Be of good cheer, my brothers, for I tell you there is hope!"
One of the other guys, a large black chap, rolled his lone eye. "Okay, you're cut off. Someone get him a cookbook or something."
"Or, you know, some fair damsel to seduce," the girl said, looking up from her reflection. ~ Lia Habel

The fantasy/reality confusion ... it's just marvelous in her work. I mean, there, it's practically like what we do, the fantasy working as a sort of metalogic, with which she can solve real, aesthetic problems in the most incredible ways
I was actually in a few of her productions last year, a sort of ersatz member of the company. But finally I just had to get out. Because when that fantasy seeps into the reality, she just becomes an incredibly ugly person. She feels she can distort anything that occurs for whatever purpose she wants. Whatever she feels, that's what is, as far as she's concerned. But then, I suppose ... ' Bron laughed at the ground, then looked up: they'd just left the Plaza
'that's the right we just fought a war to defend. But Audri, when someone abuses that right, it can make it pretty awful for the rest of us. ~ Samuel R. Delany

Nina pulled the pins from her hair, shucked off the blonde wig, and tossed it on the table they'd set in the middle of the tomb. She slumped into a chair, rubbing her fingers along her scalp. "So much better," she said with a happy sigh. But Matthias could not ignore the almost greenish cast to her skin.
She was worse tonight. Either she'd run into trouble with Smeet or she'd simply overexerted herself. And yet, watching her, Matthias felt something in him ease. At least now she looked like Nina again, her brown hair in damp tangles, her eyes half-shut. Was it normal to be fascinated by the way someone slouched? ~ Leigh Bardugo

Missy

I was sixteen and Jason (known on TV as Jase) was eighteen when we started dating. One of my friends--we'll call her Christy--was actually interested in him, and the two of them had started seeing each other. Jase did not know Christy was already dating someone else and had been for quite some time. He found this out at her house one Sunday afternoon when she ran down the stairs telling him he had to leave immediately. About that time, he heard the screeching of tires from the front of her house. Her boyfriend had arrived. The boyfriend (we'll call him Greg) was obviously not happy with the current arrangement and was there to set things straight with Jason. He told Jason eh wanted to talk inside his truck. Jase ended up getting into Greg's vehicle, which he quickly regretted, and Greg proceeded to drive to an undisclosed location to fight it out. Quickly, Jase realized the situation and told Greg that if all of this was over Christy, he could have her. She was not worth it to him.
Since Greg did not seem to respond to this direction in the conversation, Jase switched gears and started preaching to him. He proceeded to tell Greg that Jesus died for him and for all the rotten things he had done in his life. He told him God would forgive him if he would turn his life over to Jesus, be baptized for his sins, and start living a life that reflected Jesus' love for him.
Since Greg did not seem to respond to this dialogue either, Jase told him simply, "Jus ~ Missy Robertson

He couldn't see her, sitting outside in the darkness, looking in at the light. A pair of actors trapped in a recondite play with no hint of plot or narrative. Stumbiling through their parts nursing someone else's sorrow. Grieving someone else's grief. Unable somehow to change plays. Or purchase, for a fee some cheap brand of exorcism from a conveyor with a fancy degree, who would sit them down and say in one of many ways: " Your not the sinners. You're the sinned against. You were only children.You had no control. You are the victims, not the perpetrators." It would of helped if they could of made that crossing. If only they could have worn, even temporarily, the tragic hood of victim hood ~ Arundhati Roy

My problem is that I want to smoke the cigar and for someone else to light it. I want to blow out smoke. Like a volcano. Like a monster. I want to fume. I do not want to be the girl whose job it is to wail in a high-pitched voice at funerals. ~ Deborah Levy

She can't hurt him, Izzy," (Alec)
"I know you're worried, but he's got the Mark of Cain; he's untouchable. Even a Greater Demon can't harm him. No one can." (Alec)
Isabelle scowled at her brother. "So what do you think she wants him for, then? So she'll have someone to pick up her dry cleaning during the day? Really, Alec
~ Cassandra Clare

But there, standing at the entrance to the garden, wearing a khalat the colour of a breaking dawn and that faint smile that meant she knew she was outsmarting someone, was Shazad. ~ Alwyn Hamilton

So how do you know whether a person has integrity? After all, like the foundation of a house, it may not be visible at first glance. It may not show up when you have pizza together or sit around a boardroom table for a meeting, but sooner or later, a situation will arise that will tell you whether someone operates with integrity or not. ~ Van Moody

That's what life is about: finding something you can do that no one else can, and working your hardest at it. It's about finding someone you love like no one else, someone who loves you like no one else does. ~ A.G. Riddle

Hate people on an individual basis only - you must actually get to know someone at least slightly before you can properly hate him or her. ~ Jill Conner Browne

Wonderful. Mad at home and mad here. Was there nowhere that this Alice was truly sane? ~ Melanie Karsak

Settling in to be another clear night and pretty evening here in Night Vale. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with. Or, at least, good memories of when you did. ~ Joseph Fink

The thing can never be separated from someone who perceives it; nor can it ever actually be in itself because its articulations are the very ones of our existence, and because it is posited at the end of a gaze or at the conclusion of a sensory exploration that invests it with humanity. To taking up or the achievement by us of an alien intention or inversely the accomplishment beyond our perceptual powers and as a coupling of our body wit the things. ~ Maurice Merleau Ponty

You have to separate artistic ability from ethnic origin. Not only am I not black, I am also not a woman, therefore how can I direct women? I am also only 42, therefore how can I direct someone who's 60? So you see where the argument ends up? If you take it to its logical conclusion, I would have to walk around and point a video camera at myself. And who the hell is interested in that? ~ Gavin Hood

I do not know what the cat can have eaten. Usually I know exactly what the cat has eaten. Not only have I fed it to the cat, at the cat's insistence, but the cat has thrown it up on the rug, and someone has tracked it all over onto the other rug. I do not know why cats are such habitual vomiters. They do not seem to enjoy it, judging by the sounds they make while they are doing it. It's their nature. A dog is going to bark. A cat is going to vomit. ~ Roy Blount, Jr.

But the real triumph was reserved for Christine Daae, who had begun by singing a few passages from Romeo and Juliet. It was the first time that the young artist sang in this work of Gounod, which had not been transferred to the Opera and which was revived at the Opera Comique after it had been produced at the old Theatre Lyrique by Mme. Carvalho. Those who heard her say that her voice, in these passages, was seraphic; but this was nothing to the superhuman notes that she gave forth in the prison scene and the final trio in FAUST, which she sang in the place of La Carlotta, who was ill. No one had ever heard or seen anything like it.

Daae revealed a new Margarita that night, a Margarita of a splendor, a radiance hitherto unsuspected. The whole house went mad, rising to its feet, shouting, cheering, clapping, while Christine sobbed and fainted in the arms of her fellow-singers and had to be carried to her dressing-room.

- Chapter 2: The New Margarita, from The Phantom of the Opera ~ Gaston Leroux

Okay, okay . . . where do you hear it coming from?"
"Around here somewhere."
"Always in this spot?"
"No. Not always. You are going to think I am even more insane, but I swear it is following me around."
"Maybe it is my new powers. The power to drive you mad." She wriggled her fingers at him theatrically as if she were casting a curse on him.
"You already drive me mad," he teased, dragging her up against him and nibbling her neck with a playful growling. "Ah hell," he broke off. "I really am going mad. I cannot believe you cannot hear that. It is like a metronome set to some ridiculously fast speed."
He turned and walked into the living room, looking around at every shelf.
"The last person to own this place probably had a thing for music and left it running. Listen. Can you hear that?"
"No," she said thoughtfully, "but I can hear you hearing it if I concentrate on your thoughts. What in the world . . . ?"
Gideon turned, then turned again, concentrating on the rapid sound, following it until it led him right up to his wife.
"It is you!" he said. "No wonder it is following me around. Are you wearing a watch?" He grabbed her wrist and she rolled her eyes.
"A Demon wearing a watch? Now I have heard everything."
Suddenly Gideon went very, very still, the cold wash of chills that flooded through him so strong that she shivered with the overflow of sensation. He abruptly dropped to his knees and framed her hips with his hand ~ Jacquelyn Frank

Some people are so broken they get mad at you for being whole. ~ ANA

Someone with a figure like Jennifer Aniston has a trainer, a cook spinning out some version of the latest diet, and probably a stop at the tanning salon. ~ Amanda Peet

I always get so overwhelmed trying to do everything perfectly. I can't do a job and not put everything I have into it. I need to be the best employee, the best co-worker, the best whatever. I need everyone to like me and I just burn out bending over backward to make that happen. Having people be mad at me is my worst fear. I can't stand it. There is this crazy fear I have of being rejected by anyone - even people I don't really care about. It's always better to leave them first, cut all ties, and disappear. They can't hurt me that way - no one can. ~ Nic Sheff

As someone had said, all you had to do was to keep your insanity under control.
You could cry, get worried or angry like any other normal human being, as long as you remembered that, up above, your spirit was laughing out loud at all those thorny situations. ~ Paulo Coelho

Before the birth of the New Woman the country was not an intellectual desert, as she is apt to suppose. There were teachers of thehighest grade, and libraries, and countless circles in our towns and villages of scholarly, leisurely folk, who loved books, and music, and Nature, and lived much apart with them. The mad craze for money, which clutches at our souls to-day as la grippe does at our bodies, was hardly known then. ~ Rebecca Harding Davis

The problem with romance is the occlusion. The tunnel vision, drawing your every gaze downstream, into those other eyes, the flotsam of your better self, your clearer self, along for the ride. It doesn't matter what secrets swirl and bob in the waters beneath you, as you float toward that lady at Delphi, who, you imagined, reading Mythology, must have been beautiful. It doesn't matter that Charybdis, with no body, with no form, with only a mouth-as-being, couldn't have been evil, because she lacked the brain for it. It doesn't matter that following the logical course of events, the natural course, always disadvantages someone else, because love, after all, is simply a competition for resources, made infinitely complex and unknowable when squared and cubed and raised to every other emotional exponent - and then layered with sex and society and a bad memory for what those resources were in the first place. ~ Darin Bradley