Rant Quotes

I don't even like the word 'indoors'. It doesn't make sense. According to you right now, by stepping through the doorway I'd be indoors. Yet I wouldn't actually be standing in the doorway. If it's supposed to refer to being inside a building, then they shouldn't have used the word 'door,' since last time I checked, doors don't make up every square inch of a building! And I'd assume that now, since I'm not indoors, you'd say I'm 'out of doors', right? But, shouldn't out of doors just be everywhere that's not directly under a door? You know what, from now on I insist that everyone refer to being in a building as being 'under-roof'. ~ Natalie Bina

Communities must plan for a variety of uses and income levels. Why do we care about housing as high-tech employers? If teachers, firefighters, peace officers, retail or restau- rant workers can't live here, then we're going to fail. ~ Carl Guardino

And I think there's something about conservatives frankly - and the Left, when it comes to their channels of persuasion, are unpersuasive. They are, most of them are hate-filled, obscenity-clogged rants of anger and hatred. ~ Karl Rove

I would love to have a photographic memory. It would come in handy with the rants I'm given on Scrubs ... often on short notice! ~ John C. McGinley

I begin to rant. I'm special, I have needs, I have a job to do - once I get my act together. I'm going to be important. ~ Greg Bear

Do you want my input or is this just an angry tirade you need to vent? (Acheron)
Both! (Kat)
Okay, you rant and I'll add my comments at the end. (Acheron) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

My recipe for dealing with anger and frustration: set the kitchen timer for twenty minutes, cry, rant, and rave, and at the sound of the bell, simmer down and go about business as usual. ~ Phyllis Diller

The end of his vicious rant ended in a satisfying squawk as Apollo backhanded him. The other man staggered and fell on his arse. "No, don't hurt him!" Lily cried, and Apollo hated to think she cared for this man. "I won't," he assured her in a level tone. He stared at the sputtering rogue for a moment and made up his mind. "But neither will I ... stand by while he ... abuses you." So saying, he picked up the man and tossed him over his shoulder. "Wait here." The man made a sort of moan and Apollo hoped he wouldn't toss his accounts down his back. He'd bathed and changed into a fairly clean shirt before coming to see Lily. Pivoting, he marched toward the dock, the man still over his shoulder. "Caliban!" He ignored her calls. He didn't really care who this ass was - as long as he was nowhere near Lily or Indio. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

An abundance of Twitter users believe they can troll and rant with impunity, no matter how debasing or even threatening their 140-character posts pose. ~ Jonathan Capehart

Facts tend to take the punch out of a good hate rant and are therefore left best unsaid. ~ John Ridley

The big reason why folks leave a small town,' Rant used to say, 'is so they can moon over the idea of going back. And the reason they stay put is so they can moon about getting out.'
Rant meant that no one is happy, anywhere. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Hey a rant. Haven't done one of those in a while. S'good to stretch out the Longevitus Ranticus section of the brain once in a while, otherwise you just become passive and might even- god forbid- lose the ability to stretch it in the first place. ~ Joseph Bullock

This album is moments that I haven't done before, like just my voice and drums. What people call a rant - but put it next to just a drumbeat, and it cuts to the level of, like, Run-D.M.C. or KRS-One. ~ Kanye West

Each holiday tradition acts as an exercise in cognitive development, a greater challenge for the child. Despite the fact most parents don't recognize this function, they still practice the exercise.

Rant also saw how resolving the illusions is crucial to how the child uses any new skills.

A child who is never coached with Santa Claus may never develop an ability to imagine. To him, nothing exists except the literal and tangible.

A child who is disillusioned abruptly, by his peers or siblings, being ridiculed for his faith and imagination, may choose never to believe in anything- tangible or intangible- again. To never trust or wonder.

But a child who relinquishes the illusions of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy, that child may come away with the most important skill set. That child may recognize the strength of his own imagination and faith. He will embrace the ability to create his own reality. That child becomes his own authority. He determines the nature of his world. His own vision. And by doing so, by the power of his example, he determines the reality of the other two types: those who can't imagine, and those who can't trust. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Open the windows and the doors, she shouted, cook some meat and fish, buy the largest turtles around, let strangers come in and spread their mats in the corners and urinate in the rose bushes and sit down to eat as many times as they want, and belch and rant and muddy everything with their boots, and let them do whatever they want to us, because that's the only way to drive off ruin. ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

One of the people who most influenced me was Ben Shapiro, a marketing professor at the business school. He used to rant and rave and pound his fist: 'It's all about the customers!' And he was right. He was also right that, at that time, retailing was devoid of really talented people; he urged me to go in that direction. ~ Thomas G. Stemberg

I can't bear these accounts I read in the Times and elsewhere of these poetry slams, in which various young men and women in various late-spots are declaiming rant and nonsense at each other. The whole thing is judged by an applause meter which is actually not there, but might as well be. This isn't even silly; it is the death of art. ~ Harold Bloom

After more hours in a carriage with Archer than he ever wanted to experience again, Grey returned to Ryeton House. All he wanted to do was find Rose, climb into bed with her, and sleep for the rest of the day. Honestly, sleep. Entwine his legs with hers, sink into her arms, bury his face in the sweet warm hollow of her neck…
"You coming?"
Grey blinked and turned his head. He was standing in the drive with Archer and the others watching him expectantly.
Archer shook his head, clearly exasperated. "Are we going inside, Your Grace, or shall we conduct our business on the street for all Mayfair to witness?"
"Inside," he mumbled. Could he be any more of an idiot? He walked toward the door, the others falling into step behind him. Archer took Bronte's arm and led their pale, scared-looking sister into the house. Grey hadn't had much of a chance to talk to her, to let her know that everything would be fine. She probably thought he was going to rant and rave and tell her she could never see Alexander again.
Truth be told, ranting and raving was tempting. And a little fear was a small price to pay for what she'd put him through-and for thinking so ill of him to begin with. When had he ever given her reason to think him a monster? ~ Kathryn Smith

That's the problem with this whole country. Fucking vast prosperity. No one has any real problems anymore. Ninety percent of the damn politicians in this town either think there's no war on terror, or if we'd just be nice to these zealots they'll leave us alone. Well, that ain't going to fucking happen. The Huns are circling, and we're sitting around arguing about gay rights and prayer and guns and global warming and all kinds of bullshit. These idiots will eventually wake up to the threat, but by then it might be too late. (Stan Hurley) ~ Vince Flynn

It's a lot more fun for actors to cry and rant and rave, or have a drug problem or a drinking problem. ~ Jerry Orbach

One thing I've learned about death threats is that they're great, actually. You should actually be grateful for death threats because those who are taking the time to threaten you that way are getting it out of their system. That's really what they rant to do, yell at you, and they want to threaten you. ~ Michael Moore

Taylor held a finger up to Val and Kate. "Hold that thought for a second while I get this."
As she headed into the living room, she overheard Kate mumble to Val, "Hold what thought? I haven't understood a word she's said yet."
Taylor unlocked her front door and opened it. Before she could react, Jason barreled right in, all fired up.
"Where have you been?? I tried calling you - is your cell phone off? I need you to tell me who the hell I can sue. I just met with Marty - we got back the mock-ups for the new publicity posters the studio's going to use to promote Inferno ."
Jason stormed into the kitchen, so engrossed in his rant he didn't notice Valerie and Kate. He opened Taylor's fridge and helped himself to a bottled water.
"And get this," he fumed angrily, "the dumbasses who designed the posters have me pictured in this scene where I'm putting out a fire with all these other firemen. But if you look at the poster from the side, the water from the hose of one of the other firefighters looks like it's shooting right out of my crotch. And the best part is, they want to put this poster over the theater entrance for the premiere. I can just see it - " He gestured grandly to the air. " 'Come see Inferno! Get pissed on by Jason Andrews!'"
With that, he threw Taylor a wink. "It should be right up your alley."
Finished with his rant, Jason took a sip of water. Then he finally noticed Kate and Val. He smiled charmingly.
"Oh. People. Hello."
Julie James

The "progressives" who today masquerade as "liberals" may rant against "fascism"; yet it is their policy that paves the way for Hitlerism. Nothing could have been more helpful to the success of the National-Socialist (Nazi) movement than the methods used by the "progressives," denouncing Nazism as a party serving the interests of "capital." The German workers knew this tactic too well to be deceived by it again. ~ Ludwig Von Mises

Ari had discovered a contraband Barbie bangle in her weekend case and had gone on an hour's rant that contained words like 'body fascism' and 'third-wave feminism', then made Ellie write out fifty times, 'Barbie is a toxic plastic tool of a patriarchal culture. ~ Sarra Manning

I wish you'd stop acting as if-as if everything is normal!"
"What would you have me do?" he replied, getting up and walking over to the tray of liquor. He poured some Scotch into two glasses and handed one to Jordan. "If you're waiting for me to rant and weep, you're wasting your time."
"No, at the moment I'm glad you're not given to the masculine version of hysterics. I have news, as I said, and though you aren't going to find it pleasant from a personal viewpoint, it's the best possible news from the standpoint of your trial next week. Ian," he said uneasily, "our investigators-yours, I mean-have finally picked up Elizabeth's trail."
Ian's voice was cool, his expression unmoved. "Where is she?"
"We don't know yet, but we do know she was seen traveling in company of a man on the Bernam Road two nights after she disappeared. They put up at the inn about fifteen miles north of Lister. They"-he hesitated and expelled his breath in a rush-"they were traveling as man and wife, Ian."
Other than the merest tightening of Ian's hand upon the glass of Scotch, there was no visible reaction to this staggering news, or to all its heartbreaking and unsavory implications. "There's more news, and it's as good-I mean as valuable-to us."
Ian tossed down the contents of his glass and said with icy finality, "I can't see how any news could be better. She has now proven that I didn't kill her, and at the same time she's given me irrefutable grounds for divorce. ~ Judith McNaught

A novel is not a rant. ~ Rachel Kushner

And Jazz snapped.
He didn't snap the way a normal person might snap. A normal person would fling his arms around and stomp his feet and rant at the top of his lungs, bellowing to the sky. There might be tears, from a normal person.
Jazz went quiet. He darted out one hand and grabbed the wrist of the paramedic who had been trying to cuff him and pulled the man close, holding his gaze.
In a moment, he channeled every last drop of (his father).
Who am I? I'll tell you. I'm the local psychopath, and if you don't save my best friend's life, I will hunt down everyone you've ever cared about in your life and make you watch while I do things to them that will have you begging me to kill them. That's who I am. ~ Barry Lyga

She was having an attack of knuckleheaded anxiety. Those attacks last a long time. ~ Louis Ferdinand Celine

I'm just following the Irish tradition of songwriting, the Irish way of life, the human way of life. Cram as much pleasure into life, and rail against the pain you have to suffer as a result. Or scream and rant with the pain, and wait for it to be taken away with beautiful pleasure ... ~ Shane MacGowan

It's said that I went into a rant, but I think it went on for about five words. I was drunk. It just turned into a big thing. I apologized profusely-not once but three times. So what's the problem? It's four years ago. Do I need to apologize again? ~ Mel Gibson

Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played tricks on me enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can;t learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a-laying up sin and suffering for the both of us, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart almost breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hooky this evening, and I'll just be obleeged to make him work tomorrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've got to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child. ~ Mark Twain

It was very hard to rant while accepting a cup of tea. ~ Lauren Willig

Rant goes, "Really, truly with her whole entire heart, does Echo hate somebody?"
I go, doesn't Rant mean "love"?
And Rant shrugs and says, "Ain't it the same thing? ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Vladimir Nabokov and George Orwell had quite different gifts, and their self-images were quite different. But, I shall argue, their accomplishment was pretty much the same. Both of them warn the liberal ironist intellectual against temptations to be cruel. Both of them dramatise the tension between private irony and liberal hope.

In the following passage, Nabokov helped blur the distinctions which I want to draw:

...'Lolita' has no moral in tow. For me a work of fiction exists only in so far as it affords me what I shall bluntly call aesthetic bliss, that is a sense of being somehow, somewhere, connected with other states of being where art (curiosity, tenderness, kindness, ecstasy) is the norm. There are not many such books. All the rest is either topical trash or what some call the Literature of Ideas, which very often is topical trash coming in huge blocks of plaster that are carefully transmitted from age to age until somebody comes along with a hammer and takes a good crack at Balzac, at Gorki, at Mann.

Orwell blurred the same distinctions when, in one of his rare descents into rant, "The Frontiers of Art and Propaganda," he wrote exactly the sort of thing Nabokov loathed:

You cannot take a purely aesthetic interest in a disease you are dying from; you cannot feel dispassionately about a man who is about to cut your throat. In a world in which Fascism and Socialism were fighting one another, any thinking person had to take side ~ Richard M. Rorty

I imagine the field day we'd have with this in gender studies class. Our desks in a circle, we'd huddle forward and rant: So this is the baseline of femininity. The place where being bestowed certain chromosomes will ultimately take you. This is the dream that's been pounded into us. Find the guy. Find the dress. Or hell, maybe the other way around. The Disney Princesses told us so. But this isn't college. This is my job. ~ Anne Wagener

Since the days of Peter the Great, Russia had looked to the West for her civilization, even to the extend of adopting French as a second language - or as a first for people of station and learning. The United States, recently cut loose politically from England, still drew heavily on the Old World for her art, literature, science and philosophy. Intellectuals from both nations flocked to Europe in search of eduction and aesthetic stimulation, and many became so enthralled with European civilization that they failed to return. In Russia as well as in the United States many an indignant patriot would rant about the need for serving European apron strings. ~ Perry D. Westbrook

Writing lets you step back and think through a problem. Even the angriest rant forces the writer to achieve a degree of thoughtfulness. ~ Atul Gawande

What bothered me wasn't so much the girl's obvious flirting, but the fact that Chris hadn't cut it off. I mean, two-hundred-plus messages? Come on!
But my reaction may have been over the top.
"I don't need this shit!" I yelled, storming into the bedroom where he was still asleep. I threw my coffee-lukewarm, fortunately-all over him.
"What? What?" he mumbled, not yet awake.
"Get the hell out!" I screamed.
There were a lot of expletives. As a Navy SEAL, Chris had surely heard worse-even from me-but he was completely caught off guard.
"I'm not hiding anything!" he protested when he realized from my tirade what I was mad about.
I continued to let him have it.
"The kids can hear you," he said finally.
"Good!" I screamed.
On and on-it was a good rant, let me tell you. I completely and totally lost it. Chris got up and left, wisely seeing that as the smart thing to do.
I was still frothing. My dad came in, no doubt wondering why his daughter had turned into the Wicked Witch of the West. I showed him some of the messages.
"Look at this! Look at this!" I shouted, as if my father were Chris's defense attorney. "What do you think of this? Why would he do this?"
"These are no big deal," said my dad.
"It is a big deal. This how it starts."
I was furious. If I hadn't had the one experience with the old girlfriend, maybe I wouldn't have gone so ballistic. In any event, I just saw red. ~ Taya Kyle

You'll meet a lot of stupid guys. You'll probably get your heart broken more than once. You might reach a point where life seems worthless without him. Maybe you've already hit that point. I can't tell you to to stop crying, because sometimes, crying helps. I can't ask you to smile, because sometimes, it's all you can do to just breathe. I can't make you happy, because that's something you have to do yourself. But I can promise you one thing. I will be there for you. I will listen if you need to rant. I will hug you if you're feeling alone. I will drive you away if you need to escape. I will buy you coffee, goddammit, if you need some. I will be there for you, because you've always been there for me. ~ Alysha Speer

The free market allowed shock jocks to flourish, and millions of listeners apparently enjoyed the rant. ~ Christine Pelosi

My tolerance for crazy people is, I think, high a tolerance as you're ever going to find. I love being around David Allen Coe. I would have loved to hang out with Tiny Tim. I can listen to Sun Ra on a tape-recording rant. ~ Penn Jillette

All Carolina folk are crazy for mayonnaise, mayonnaise is as ambrosia to them, the food of their tarheeled gods. Mayonnaise comforts them, causes the vowels to slide more musically along their slow tongues, appeasing their grease-conditioned taste buds while transporting those buds to a place higher than lard could ever hope to fly. Yellow as summer sunlight, soft as young thighs, smooth as a Baptist preacher's rant, falsely innocent as a magician's handkerchief, mayonnaise will cloak a lettuce leaf, some shreds of cabbage, a few hunks of cold potato in the simplest splendor, restyling their dull character, making them lively and attractive again, granting them the capacity to delight the gullet if not the heart. Fried oysters, leftover roast, peanut butter: rare are the rations that fail to become instantly more scintillating from contact with this inanimate seductress, this goopy glory-monger, this alchemist in a jar.
The mystery of mayonnaise-and others besides Dickie Goldwire have surely puzzled over this_is how egg yolks, vegetable oil, vinegar (wine's angry brother), salt, sugar (earth's primal grain-energy), lemon juice, water, and, naturally, a pinch of the ol' calcium disodium EDTA could be combined in such a way as to produce a condiment so versatile, satisfying, and outright majestic that mustard, ketchup, and their ilk must bow down before it (though, a at two bucks a jar, mayonnaise certainly doesn't put on airs)or else slink away in disgrace. Who but the ~ Tom Robbins

What's missing is the music. I'd like to rant on and on about the music, the mechanics of it. It's what I think about 90 per cent of the day. I don't think about getting high all the time. I guess I do think about sex a lot, though ... ~ Brian Molko

To rail and rant against tyranny is to manifest inferiority, for there is no tyranny but ignorance; to be conscious of one's powers is to lose consciousness of tyranny. Self government is not a remote aim. It is an intimate and inescapable fact. To govern oneself is a natural imperative, and all tyranny is the miscarriage of self government. The first requisite of freedom is to accept responsibility for the lack of it. ~ E.C. Riegel

I'd like to start this week with a request, and this one goes out to the followers of the three Abrahamic religions: the Muslims, Christians, and Jews. It's just a little thing, really, but do you think that when you've finished smashing up the world and blowing each other to bits and demanding special privileges while you do it, do you think that maybe the rest of us could sort of have our planet back? I wouldn't ask, but I'm starting to think that there must be something written in the special books that each of you so enjoy referring to that it's ok to behave like special, petulant, pugnacious, pricks.

Forgive the alliteration, but your persistent, power-mad punch-ups are pissing me off. It's mainly the extremists obviously, but not exclusively. It's a lot of 'main-streamers' as well. Let me give you an example of what I'm talking about.

Muslims: listen up my bearded and veily friends! Calm down, ok? Stop blowing stuff up. Not everything that said about you is an attack on the prophet Mohammed and Allah that needs to end in the infidel being destroyed. Have a cup of tea, put on a Cat Stevens record, sit down and chill out. I mean seriously, what's wrong with a strongly-worded letter to The Times?

Christians: you and your churches don't get to be millionaires while other people have nothing at all. They're your bloody rules; either stick to them or abandon the faith. And stop persecuting and killing people you judge to be immoral. Oh, and st ~ Marcus Brigstocke

Rant Casey used to say, "No matter what happens, it's always now ... " Talk about cryptic.
I think what Rant meant was, we live in the present moment of reality, and no matter what's come before, no matter how much we loved a person or a dog, when it attacks us we'll react to that moment of danger. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

When we are young we think our troubles a mighty business – that the world is spread out expressly as a stage for the particular drama of our lives and that we have a right to rant and foam at the mouth if we are crossed. I have done enough of that in my time. ~ George Eliot

Incidentally, I notice that our professors, trying to show off to their students, rant and rail against the state and against law and order, while expecting that same state to punctually pay their salaries, pensions, and family allowances, so that they value at least this kind of law and order. Make a fist with the left hand and open the right hand receptively - that is how one gets through life. ~ Ernst Junger

You know what makes you a real Mississippian?" I rant or maybe just scream inwardly while flipping off the Confederate statue trapped in my rearview. "Surviving a Mississippi public education, that's what makes you a goddamn Mississippian. ... If you don't have giant gaps in geography -- entire countries you're unaware of, major religions you don't know exist -- then nope, not a Mississippian. If you had sober teachers who could even spell matriculate then you're from someplace fancy like Alabama. ~ Lee Durkee

When my father died and was buried in a chapel overlooking Portsmouth - the same chapel in which General Eisenhower had prayed for success the night before D-Day in 1944 - I gave the address from the pulpit and selected as my text a verse from the epistle of Saul of Tarsus, later to be claimed as "Saint Paul," to the Philippians (chapter 4, verse 8): Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report: if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. I chose this because of its haunting and elusive character, which will be with me at the last hour, and for its essentially secular injunction, and because it shone out from the wasteland of rant and complaint and nonsense and bullying which surrounds it. ~ Christopher Hitchens

I don't understand why everyone loves you and feels this need to protect me against you or warn me against you." It was insulting, to tell the truth. Everyone just assumed she'd roll over ... "Everyone just automatically assumes that you're after me and that I'm going to fall for you. It's insulting. ~ Tijan

What does the radicalism of radical writers nowadays amount to? Most of it is hand-me-down bohemianism, sentimental populism, D. H. Lawrence-and-water, or imitation Sartre. For American writers radicalism is a question of honor. They must be radicals for the sake of their dignity. They see it as their function, and a noble function, to say Nay, and to bite not only the hand that feeds them (and feeds them with comic abundance, I might add) but almost any other hand held out to them. Their radicalism, however, is contentless. A genuine radicalism, which truly challenges authority, we need desperately. But a radicalism of posture is easy and banal. Radical criticism requires knowledge, not posture, not slogans, not rant. People who maintain their dignity as artists, in a small way, by being mischievous on television, simply delight the networks and the public. True radicalism requires homework - thought. Of the cleans, on the other hand, there isn't much to say. They seem faded. ~ Saul Bellow

For the first time in history, men and women are seriously exploring the possibilities of relationships based on separateness rather than togetherness. Instead of clinging to Yahweh, to a rigid set of laws established by a jealous Father-God who will rant in fury if he is disobeyed, they are simply ignoring that ranting, walking away from it, and attempting to put their trust in the irrational. In other words, they are trying to live by the spirit. ~ Marion Woodman

Politically, we are still stuck in the systems of thought of the Greek and Roman slave states, no matter how much we rant about "democracy. ~ Wilhelm Reich

Then, with a cheeky quirk of his brows, he leaned forward and murmured, "Would it be improper of me to admit that I am inordinately flattered by your attention to
the details of my face?"
Anne snorted out a laugh. "Improper and ludicrous."
"It is true that I have never felt quite so colorful," he said, with a clearly feigned sigh.
"You are a veritable rainbow," she agreed. "I see red and ... well, no orange and yellow, but certainly green and blue and violet."
"You forgot indigo."
"I did not," she said, with her very best governess voice. "I have always found it to be a foolish addition to the spectrum. Have you ever actually seen a rainbow?"
"Once or twice," he replied, looking rather amused by her rant. ~ Julia Quinn

So much of 'Fight Club' was a rant against fathers. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Sometimes, people call my way of speaking ranting. Why are you always ranting and screaming, they ask. But here's the thing ... the reason why I rant is because I am a voice for many women that cannot speak out to heads of state, UN officials, and those that influence systems of oppression. And so I rant. And I will not stop ranting until my mission of equality of all girls is achieved. ~ Leymah Gbowee

A good rant is cathartic. Ranting is what keeps me sane.
They always come from a different place. Take the prime minister, for example. Sometimes when I rant about him, I am angry; other times, I am just severely annoyed-it's an important distinction. ~ Rick Mercer

Book critics or theatre critics can be derisively negative and gain delighted praise for the trenchant with of their review. But in criticisms of religion even clarity ceases to be a virtue and sounds like aggressive hostility. A politician may attack an opponent scathingly across the floor of the House and earn plaudits for his robust pugnacity. But let a soberly reasoning critic of religion employ what would in other contexts sound merely direct or forthright, and it will be described as a 'rant'. ~ Richard Dawkins

You can see the proof in an MRI scan of someone presented with political opinions that conflict with her own. The brain scans of a person shown statements that oppose her political stance show that the highest areas of the cortex, the portions responsible for providing rational thought, get less blood until another statement is presented that confirms her beliefs. Your brain literally begins to shut down when you feel your ideology is threatened. Try it yourself. Watch a pundit you hate for fifteen minutes. Resist the urge to change the channel. Don't complain to the person next to you. Don't get online and rant. Try to let it go. You will find this is excruciatingly difficult. ~ David McRaney

I'd think of a topic and just rant on it and transfer it to the computer, upload it. It's such a quick thing. You post it on your website and after an hour, 10 people write comments. ~ Andy Milonakis

This was how to help a family who has just lost their child. Wash the clothes, make soup. Don't ask them what they need, bring them what they need. Keep them warm. Listen to them rant, and cry, and tell their story over and over. ~ Ann Hood

The Gods give with one hand and take with the other. ~ George R R Martin

Ramses. I had long since resigned myself to the impossibility of teaching Emerson the proper subjects of conversation before the servants. Wilkins is not resigned; but there is nothing he can do about it. Not only does Emerson rant on and on about personal matters at the dinner table, but he often consults Wilkins and John. Wilkins has a single reply to all questions: "I really could not say, sir." John, who had never been in service before he came to us, had adapted very comfortably to Emerson's habits. ~ Elizabeth Peters

Luke's momma had an impressive temper. All the Murrays had tempers, but Momma, she was another level entirely. She could rant at her husband and cook the evening meal, and whap her son upside the head all at the same time. ~ Sue Brown

In a world where billions believe their deity conceived a mortal child with a virgin human, it's stunning how little imagination most people display. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Never angrily rant into your web cam. While smashing a keyboard in half over a game of 'World of Warcraft' may seem totally justified in your head, to the rest of the known universe you look like a raging psychopath. ~ Ray William Johnson

'In Praise of Slowness' chronicles the global trend towards deceleration that has come to be known as the Slow Movement. Don't worry, though: it is not a Luddite rant. I love speed. Going fast can be fun, liberating and productive. The problem is that our hunger for speed, for cramming more and more into less and less time, has gone too far. ~ Carl Honore

They classify my motivational speeches as rants! ~ Kanye West

That 'writers write' is meant to be self-evident. People like to say it. I find it is hardly ever true. Writers drink. Writers rant. Writers phone. Writers sleep. I have met very few writers who write at all. ~ Renata Adler

Some write a narrative of wars and feats, Of heroes little known, and call the rant A history. ~ William Cowper

Love peeps who have 2 correct me.
Well it's peeps like you that give me fault when it comes to Apple. Apple been annoying me as well when it comes 2 trying 2 auto-correct me. Always ends up spelling it freaking wrong and just generally making me look like an asswipe as well as itself. It was fine b4 you changed it, I know I spelt it right, just like COLOUR is not spelt COLOR in my country!!! I never typed PEAK!! I wrote PEEK! it just decided not to and pissed me off just like peeps, like you, who like 2 auto-correct me!
Rant over! ~ Ellie Williams

You don't want some tacky Vegas fly-by. You're serious. You're serious about friendships, about your work, your family. You're serious about Star Wars, and you active dislike of Jar Jar Binks
"
"Well, God. Come on, anyone who
"
"You're serious," she continued before he went on a Jar Jar rant, "about living your life on your terms, and being easygoing doesn't negate that one bit. You're serious about what kind of kryptonite is more lethal to Superman."
"You have to go with the classic green. I told you, the gold can strip Kryptonians' powers permanently, but
" ...
... "Mkae all the lists you want, Cilla. Love? It's green kryptonite. it powers out all the rest. ~ Nora Roberts

Ione

III.

TO-DAY my skies are bare and ashen,
And bend on me without a beam.
Since love is held the master-passion,
Its loss must be the pain supreme -
And grinning Fate has wrecked my dream.
But pardon, dear departed Guest,
I will not rant, I will not rail;
For good the grain must feel the flail;
There are whom love has never blessed.
I had and have a younger brother,
One whom I loved and love to-day
As never fond and doting mother
Adored the babe who found its way
From heavenly scenes into her day.
Oh, he was full of youth's new wine, -
A man on life's ascending slope,
Flushed with ambition, full of hope;
And every wish of his was mine.
A kingly youth; the way before him
Was thronged with victories to be won;
so joyous, too, the heavens o'er him
Were bright with an unchanging sun, -
His days with rhyme were overrun.
Toil had not taught him Nature's prose,
Tears had not dimmed his brilliant eyes,
And sorrow had not made him wise;
His life was in the budding rose.
I know not how I came to waken,
Some instinct pricked my soul to sight;
My heart by some vague thrill was shaken, -
A thrill so true and yet so slight,
I hardly deemed I read aright.
As when a sleeper, ign'rant why,
Not knowing what mysterious hand
Has called him out of slumberland,
Starts up to find some danger n ~ Paul Laurence Dunbar

Your wife tolerates your weaknesses and does not rant or scold, and if she worries, it is only because she wants you to live forever. You count the reasons why you have held her close to you for so many years, and surely this is one of them, one of the bright stars in the vast constellation of enduring love. ~ Paul Auster

I'm supposed to believe you sold your emeralds out of some freakish start-out of a frivolous desire to go off with a man you claim was your brother?"
"Goodness, I don't know what you are supposed to believe. I only know I did it."
"Madam!" he snapped. "You were on the verge of tears, according to the jeweler to whom you sold them. If you were in a frivolous mood, why were you on the verge of tears?"
Elizabeth gave him a vacuous look. "I liked my emeralds."
Guffaws erupted from the floor to the rafters. Elizabeth waited until they were finished before she leaned forward and said in a proud, confiding tone, "My husband often says that emeralds match my eyes. Isn't that sweet?"
Sutherland was beginning to grind his teeth, Elizabeth noted. Afraid to look at Ian, she cast a quick glance at Peterson Delham and saw him watching her alertly with something that might well have been admiration.
"So!" Sutherland boomed in a voice that was nearly a rant. "We are now supposed to believe that you weren't really afraid of your husband?"
"Of course I was. Didn't I just explain how very cruel he can be?" she asked with another vacuous look. "Naturally, when Bobby showed me his back I couldn't help thinking that a man who would threaten to cut off his wife's allowance would be capable of anything-"
Loud guffaws lasted much longer this time, and even after they died down, Elizabeth noticed derisive grins where before there had been condemnation and disbel ~ Judith McNaught

Go ahead. Make the midnight knock. Stand up on behalf of those you love. And, yes, stand up on behalf of those you do not. "Pray for those who hurt you" (Matt. 5:44 NCV). The quickest way to douse the fire of anger is with a bucket of prayer. Rather than rant, rave, or seek revenge, pray. Jesus did this. While hanging on the cross, he interceded for his enemies: "Father, forgive them; they don't know what they're doing" (Luke 23:34 MSG). Jesus, even Jesus, left his enemies in God's hands. ~ Max Lucado

Up near the top, underlined and in capitals were the words: 'READ THIS.'
Jay grimaced as she wondered what she was in for. Would it be a semi-literate political rant, a half-baked conspiracy theory or a quasi-religious manifesto? Perhaps it was just a very long suicide note: a self-pitying list of misfortune and hardship. Whatever it was she doubted it would contain anything useful.
Unable to put it off any longer, she finished her coffee and began: 'We are all stories that we tell ourselves, memories selected to fit our chosen form.
What becomes of us when there is no-one there to read? ~ K. Valisumbra

We have years to converse with someone, to blurt and rant, to explain our desires and anger and regrets - and oh how we squander those moments. ~ Jeffery Deaver

Why do you rant and brag with such a spate of words, as if you wanted to overwhelm me with a sort of tempest and deluge of oratory-which nevertheless falls with the greater force on your own head, while my ark rides aloft in safety? ~ Martin Luther

America pays its bills. It always has. It always will. The fact that Washington is now debating whether to honor its debts and obligations, then, should come as a surprise. But playing political football with a necessary vote to raise the nation's debt ceiling has become as predictable as a Twitter rant from Charlie Sheen. ~ Peter Welch

I stressed that I did not want to be treated like a hero. I was only one member of the revolutionary masses who had fulfilled his duty towards his country. It was easy to write, rant, and mobilize people using the internet. The real heroes of this revolution were the people who had died and been injured. ~ Wael Ghonim

Sì."
Abigail eyed him with exasperation. "Stop saying sì. Explain. Honestly, it's times like this your
communication skills - "
A kiss ended her irritated rant quite effectively. ~ Lynsay Sands

As a non-believer, I want the atheist case to be made. I want religious belief to be scrutinised and challenged. I want Britain to be a genuinely secular nation, where religious belief is protected and defended as a private matter of conscience. But I feel prevented from doing so because atheism in public life has become so dominated by a particular breed that ends up dressing up bigotry as non-belief. It is a tragedy. And that is why it is so important that atheists distance themselves from those who undermine our position. Richard Dawkins can rant and rave about Muslims as much as he wants. But atheists: let's stop allowing him to do it in our name. ~ Owen Jones

Once The Boo roamed this campus fierce, alert, and lion-voiced, and his wrath was a terrible thing. He could scream and rant and call us "bums" a thousand times, but he could not hide his clear and overwhelming love of the Corps. The Corps received that love, took it in, felt it in the deepest places, and now, tonight, we give it back at the school where we started out and we give it to The Boo, as a gift, because once, many years ago, The Boo loved us first, when we were cadets of boys and when we needed it the most. ~ Pat Conroy

My own view would be to let Saddam bluster, let him rant and rave all he wants. As long as he behaves himself within his own borders, we should not be addressing any attack or resources against him. ~ Dick Armey

Whoever will take the trouble of reading the book ascribed to Isaiah, will find it one of the most wild and disorderly compositions ever put together; it has neither beginning, middle, nor end; and, except a short historical part, and a few sketches of history in the first two or three chapters, is one continued incoherent, bombastical rant, full of extravagant metaphor, without application, and destitute of meaning; a school-boy would scarcely have been excusable for writing such stuff; it is (at least in translation) that kind of composition and false taste that is properly called prose run mad. ~ Thomas Paine

Power without control is worthless." Acheron's favorite saying. At least it was Ash's pet phrase any time Nick got behind the wheel and laid into the accelerator.
"Damn it, Nick! You've got to learn to go slow and not rush off into traffic at warp ten, especially not when it's heading straight for you!" Acheron's oth favorite rant where he was concerned. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Computers and the Internet have made it really easy to rant. It's made everyone overly opinionated. ~ Scott Weiland

Punk was a protest against work and against boredom. It was a sign of life, a rant, a scream, a rejection of bourgeois morals. But have things improved since then? Arguably, they've got worse. ~ Tom Hodgkinson

Ahhh-ahh! I'm so sorry! You were right! I am not the box of tomatoes fairies at all! It was all lies, lies, LIES! Please don't shoot me! I'm too young to die, and what if I don't die and but am just mortally wounded and forced to lie there in misery in a pool of my own blood?! Please, I'll do anything--well, I mean within reason-- I don't want to diiiiiiie!"
-Italy's "I don't want to die" rant part one ~ Hidekaz Himaruya

In that season's finale, Milch wanted Sipowicz - who by this point had suffered the deaths of his eldest son, his partner Bobby, and his wife, and whose young son Theo was facing a medical crisis - to enter the hospital chapel and rant about all that God has taken from him. Tinker was on set. Franz was on set. The entire crew was on set. And, as usual by that point, there was no script. Milch ambled onto the set, realized everyone was waiting on him, announced that he needed someone to take dictation, and launched into a stream-of-consciousness assault on the Almighty, sounding very much like Sipowicz. Minutes later, Franz performed it word-for-word. ~ Alan Sepinwall

I feel as if I could be any thing or every thing, as if I could rant and storm, or sigh, or cut capers in any tragedy or comedy in the English language. ~ Jane Austen

I rant and rave about noise pollution. ~ Robert Carlyle

No matter what happens, it's always now. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Syn's head snapped back at Furi's rant. "Alright. You're upset about what just happened and you're projecting. I'm gonna give you some alone time. There's beer in the fridge, guest bath is down the hall. Make yourself at home." Syn turned to go to his bedroom. He'd be damned if he was going to let Furi turn this into a fight about him accepting who he was.


"Fucking coward," Furi mumbled.

Syn halted at his bedroom door. Did he really just fucking say that? Syn pivoted on his heels and hurried back into the living room. "What the fuck did you just call me?"

Furi's eyes bulged at Syn's anger. He rose slowly from his seated position and eased around to the other side of the couch. The fear on his face quickly turned to anger. "You want to fight me? Beat me up, Detective?"

"What?" Syn gasped at the absurdity of that question. He faced Furi head on and held his angry, black glare with his own. "First of all, how dare you even think for a second that I would put my hands on you in anger? Just because the bastard you chose to marry did, doesn't mean all men hit." Syn pointed at his chest. "I'm not a coward, Furious. In case you forgot, I just saved your goddamn life."

"Oh no, I haven't forgotten, but yes you're the worst kind of coward. You're not scared of being shot at or throwing yourself in front of two tons of speeding metal, but you're afraid to hold a man's hand, a man you claim to like, in public. Such a badass in t ~ A.E. Via

Many will rant and rave against the garment fate has woven for them, but they pick it up and don it all the same, and most wear it to the end of their days. You ... you would rather go naked into the storm. ~ Robin Hobb

Though gay men have begun to understand it is something in themselves these upright men so fear, too many of us have internalized their self-hatred as shame. That the flesh and the spirit are one in love is none of the business of the celibate men of God, especially those who believe they rule the province of love. But the mission of the homophobe is more pernicious even than his morality. He wants every one of us to be all alone, never to find the beloved friend.
A man ought to be free to find his reason. Not that freedom alone will serve it up: it requires the gods' own fury of luck to get two people to meet. But when it finally happens, two men in love can't rejoice out loud - joy of the very thing everyone burns for - without bracing for the rant of prophets, the schoolyard bully, and Rome's "intrinsic evil." I try to remember that we fight as a ragged people to outlast the calamity so that others can sleep as safe as my friend and I, like a raft in the tempest. ~ Paul Monette

I love you!" he bellowed at me and his eyes turned black. "Happy now? I love you, okay? I love you
so fucking much that it hurts! It's driving me insane! I loved you from the moment I saw you doing
your Miss Marple impression in those woods back at The Ragged Cove. But I could tell you were
sweet on Luke and hey, why not? He's the good-looking one, right? I mean, I'm just the hired muscle.
I'm the one who gets everyone else out of the shit. But I couldn't help my feelings, I'd never felt like
that before. So yeah, okay I stole a kiss from you in the gatehouse – big fucking deal! But you know
what? That was the biggest mistake of my life, because that one kiss from you drove me out of my tiny
freaking mind! So, I'm sorry if I give the boy a hard time and ain't too gentle with the girl, but I'm not
going to sit back and watch you risk your life just so you can blow their noses and wipe their arses!"
I looked at Potter and he seemed almost out of breath after his rant. Once he had finished, he put out
his cigarette and lit another one. Standing, I looked at him and said, "Potter, I had no idea…"
"Ah, forget it," he said, waving me away with his hand. "I shouldn't have said anything. Besides, I'll
be moving out at first light in search of Luke. Once I've rescued him, I'll bring him to you in The
Hollows and you won't have to see me again. ~ Tim O'Rourke

'Dead Air' is full of rants; it's a rant-based book. Yes, it's self-indulgence. I plead guilty; mea culpa. ~ Iain Banks