Anger and Indignation

I had a lover’s quarrel with the world.

To me … [ The Waste Land ] was only the relief of a personal and wholly insignificant grouse against life; it is just a piece of rhythmical grumbling.

Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their objects than love.

Beware the fury of a patient man.

Revenge, revenge! Timotheus cries.

In friendship false, implacable in hate:

What a book a devil’s chaplain might write on the clumsy, wasteful, blundering, low, and horridly cruel works of nature!

Exterminate all the brutes!

They come together like the Coroner’s Inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.

Heaven has no rage, like love to hatred turned,

‘Why look’st thou so?’—With my cross-bow

And all who heard should see them there,

How long will you abuse our patience, Catiline?

NANCY ASTOR : If I were your wife I would put poison in your coffee!

The rich are the scum of the earth in every country.

Fools! For I also had my hour;

For the great Gaels of Ireland

I tell you naught for your comfort,

Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure;

I thought ten thousand swords must have leapt from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult.

There is, however, a limit at which forbearance ceases to be a virtue.

Hanging is too good for him, said Mr Cruelty.

Gr-r-r—there go, my heart’s abhorrence!

We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured him,