Anger and Indignation

And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.

Malefactors of great wealth.

[ Referring to his dog :] Fala’s Scotch, and being a Scottie, as soon as he learned that the Republican fiction writers in Congress and out had concocted a story that I had left him behind on an Aleutian Island and had sent a destroyer back to find him—at a cost to the taxpayers of two or three, or eight or twenty million dollars—his Scotch soul was furious. He has not been the same dog since.

Je l’ai trop aimé pour ne le point haïr!

Paquin pull down!

I admit the deed!—tear up the planks! here, here!—It is the beating of his hideous heart!

124 was spiteful. Full of a baby’s venom.

This then? This is not a book. This is libel, slander, defamation of character. This is not a book, in the ordinary sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in the face of Art, a kick in the pants to God, Man, Destiny, Time, Love, Beauty . . . what you will. I am going to sing for you, a little off key, perhaps, but I will sing. I will sing while you croak, I will dance over your dirty corpse.

Towards thee I roll thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee.

All that most maddens and torments; all that stirs up the lees of things; all truth with malice in it; all that cracks the sinews and cakes the brain; all the subtle demonisms of life and thought; all evil, to crazy Ahab, were visibly personified, and made practically assailable in Moby Dick. He piled upon the whale’s white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart’s shell upon it.

[The effect of capitalist development is to] distort the worker into a fragment of a man, . . . degrade him to the level of an appendage of a machine, they destroy the actual content of his labor by turning it into a torment.

Men must either be caressed or extinguished; because they avenge themselves of light offenses, but of the grave ones they cannot. So the offense one does to a man must be such that one not fear vengeance for it.

I find war detestable but those who praise it without participating in it even more so.

The greatest purveyor of violence in the world today - my own government.

The best government is a benevolent tyranny tempered by an occasional assassination.

There’s class warfare, all right, but it’s my class, the rich class, that’s making war, and we’re winning.

An appeaser is one who feeds a crocodile, hoping it will eat him last.

If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.

The oppressed are allowed once every few years to decide which particular representatives of the oppressing class are to represent and repress them.

The only difference between Hitler and Bush is that Hitler was elected .

Almost everything we call "higher culture" is based on the spiritualization of cruelty.

They are now informing me that not only are they better than the powerful, the masters of the world whose spittle they have to lick (not from fear, not at all from fear! but because God orders them to honour those in authority) – not only are they better, but they have a “better time”, or at least will have a better time one day. But enough! enough! I can’t bear it any longer. Bad air! Bad air! This workshop where ideals are fabricated – it seems to me just to stink of lies.

Anarchists are mouthpieces of a declining stratum of society; when they work themselves into a state of righteous indignation demanding 'rights', 'justice', 'equal rights', they are just acting under the pressure of their own lack of culture, which has no way of grasping why they really suffer, or what they lack in life.

Around the hero, everything becomes a tragedy.Around God, everything becomes what? a world?