Home > Topic > yell

yell QUOTES

yell QUOTES

41 " I prefer men who don't fall down and weep, who absorb a blow, who do not scamper and yell when chased, but stand firm, crouch, square off, meet an attack with something like resistance, even if it kills them. "

― Ben Marcus , Notable American Women

42 " She placed her fingertips on her forehead as if trying to gather her thoughts on how to handle this unexpected scenario. " Do not run from a bear. Make yourself a large target and yell to scare the bear away. Bears are easily frightened unless it's mating season." " Oh, wouldn't it be just my horrible luck to fall on a horny bear? "

43 " I felt him closing in on me. My insides twisted and my cheeks grew warmer with his approach as if I could feel the warmth of his shower radiating off him." All of a sudden, you're quiet and shy? You're not your usual pain in the ass self. I know you came here for a reason. What did you want to yell at me for this time?" he stopped just a few feet from me." Do you think you could put a shirt on? This is a business call, not the typical company you keep," I felt like I was chastising my shoes. "

44 " When you argue with verve in your saddlebags, you are extremely alive. That is why you yell and holler and shake your fist — could there be anything sweeter than convincing someone to see the world your way? What else is talking for, or jokes, or stories, or battles? The Loudest Magic, and how I loved it. "

― Catherynne M. Valente , The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two (Fairyland, #3)

45 " I talk. Jim runs. I tilt stones, Jim grabs the cold junk under the stones and -lickety-split! I climb hills. Jim yells off church steeples. I got a bank account. Jim’s got the hair on his head, the yell in his mouth, the shirt on his back and the tennis shoes on his feet. How come I think he’s richer? "

― Ray Bradbury , Something Wicked This Way Comes (Green Town, #2)

46 " She was reasonable and rational, even through the tears. I hurt her. I know I hurt her. All I felt was anger. I wanted to yell and break stuff. Be demonstrative. Because she was being... she was so adult. And I just felt like a stupid kid. I didn't want to be in our empty place so I did what I do, I went to the movies. I wanted a big dark room to cry in. "

― Matt Fraction , Sex Criminals: Volume Two: Two Worlds One Cop

47 " every time you tell your daughteryou yell at herout of loveyou teach her to confuseanger with kindnesswhich seems like a good ideatill she grows up totrust men who hurt hercause they look so muchlike you- to fathers with daughters "

48 " Every Forsaken in a mile radius can probably hear you. You’re just asking for trouble if you two don’t stop whipping out the measuring stick.”
“It’s his fault,” Avery snaps, pointing at Julian.
“Shut up, ya wanker.”
They start in on each other again. They yell as if they both have megaphones to their mouths, standing inches apart. Each vulgar insult is more illogical than the last. "

― Laura Kreitzer , Burning Falls (Summer Chronicles, #3)

49 " Oh my God, is it a bear?”
Ian’s yell from across the camp made Snow stop. Then he choked as laughter spilled from his throat.
“It’s not a bear, Ian,” Rowe yelled. “It’s just Snow. Gettin’ some. "

― Jocelynn Drake , Unbreakable Stories: Snow (Unbreakable Bonds, #2.5)

50 " I’m putting a temporary hold on the ‘stay away from me’ thing,’” she said. “just for a minute while I yell at you, and then we’re definitely going right back to it. "

― Jill Shalvis , Accidentally on Purpose (Heartbreaker Bay, #3)

51 " Marla poked Duncan. He stepped forward. " Maybe I can help." Atomic Jack looked at him., his eyes glowed a sickening shade of radioactive orange. " I really don't see how." He slipped off his glove and his hand burst into small flames. The guy didn't yell though, or make out like he was in pain. He just grinned and showed a mouthful of orange teeth. "

52 " The language I learned was pretty, full of passivity and silence. I had no proper language for the issues of blood and anger, yet much of what went on when I was a child made me angry. There were no words a nice girl could use to describe anger; her options were to remain silent or to use indiscreet language, the kind that curls in a room like smoke and soon disappears. We girls were taught to speak safely and to bandage our anger with polite, pretty words. We might talk about the anger only in questions and sighs, unable to curse, yell or break windows in the beautiful garden. "

― Beth Bagley

53 " between the disfigurement and the muzzle, it's nearly impossible to catch what she's saying. Always, though, while tripping and stumbling to the music, she looks out into her audience and tells the story about her mother. Most people laugh and yell for her to lift her skirts, but every so often she'll spot someone weeping and swear they can understand her every word. "

― David Sedaris , Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk

54 " I’d like to share with you a parable: the parable of Bob the Angel.
A girl was walking down a darkly lit city street late at night. A man jumped out from the shadows and attacked her, suddenly she was suffocating and disoriented as hands clasped around her neck and the force of his attack started to push her down. She tried to yell as she struggled to pull his arms from her neck while she crumpled backwards to the ground, “God . . . help me!”
The next thing she remembers—just as the fear consumed her, and right as she disappeared into the misery and despair of helplessness—was a loud crash and an explosion of glass which rained down upon her and her attacker. The assailant’s lifeless body was suspended above her, held from collapsing on her by an unknown force, and then pulled away from hovering over her and dropped onto the pavement beside her.
She opened her eyes in the faint shadowy light, to see black matted hair and a long, black beard framing the eyes of a man. The smell of alcohol on his breath would have knocked her out if the adrenaline was not still trilling through her veins.
There he stood, God’s angel, off-kilter and drunk, with a broken whiskey bottle in his hand.
“You probably shouldn’t be walking through here this late at night,” was all he said as he turned away.
“Wait! What’s your name?” she asked, still stunned half sitting up on the ground.
All she heard as he walked away was his trailing voice calling, “Bob’s as good as any. . . .”

An angel is a messenger, and sometimes we only want letters sent in white envelopes with beautiful gold print, when sometimes a simple “no” on the back of a gum wrapper is what we are offered.
Every postcard from heaven does not come with a picture of the sunset there, nor should it. If it is an answer we want, an answer we will get. As far as pretty postcards, there are many others willing to send us that.
If not harps and gold-tipped wings, what then is the mark of an angel? An answer which pierces your soul, and which inspires a question that invites you to look outside of yourself and up to God. "

― Michael Brent Jones , Dinner Party: Part 2

55 " I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. It's a depression. Everybody's out of work or scared of losing their job. The dollar buys a nickel's worth, banks are going bust, shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter. Punks are running wild in the street and there's nobody anywhere who seems to know what to do, and there's no end to it. We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat, and we sit watching our TV's while some local newscaster tells us that today we had fifteen homicides and sixty-three violent crimes, as if that's the way it's supposed to be. We know things are bad - worse than bad. They're crazy. It's like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don't go out anymore. We sit in the house, and slowly the world we are living in is getting smaller, and all we say is, 'Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms. Let me have my toaster and my TV and my steel-belted radials and I won't say anything. Just leave us alone.' Well, I'm not gonna leave you alone. I want you to get mad! I don't want you to protest. I don't want you to riot - I don't want you to write to your congressman because I wouldn't know what to tell you to write. I don't know what to do about the depression and the inflation and the Russians and the crime in the street. All I know is that first you've got to get mad. You've got to say, 'I'm a HUMAN BEING, God damn it! My life has VALUE!' So I want you to get up now. I want all of you to get up out of your chairs. I want you to get up right now and go to the window. Open it, and stick your head out, and yell, 'I'M AS MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE!' I want you to get up right now, sit up, go to your windows, open them and stick your head out and yell - 'I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!' Things have got to change. But first, you've gotta get mad!... You've got to say, 'I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!' Then we'll figure out what to do about the depression and the inflation and the oil crisis. But first get up out of your chairs, open the window, stick your head out, and yell, and say it: " I'M AS MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE! "

56 " The anger response, like the fear response, is a frequent target for repression. Imagine a 6-year-old girl who is angry at her 10-year-old brother for teasing her. In response, she might make an angry face, yell at her brother, and strike out at him with her fists. It’s an instinctual, energizing reaction designed to protect her from danger. Someone is violating her sense of well-being, and she’s afraid that if she doesn’t stop the intruder, she’ll get hurt.

“A wise parent would validate the girl’s anger — it’s infuriating to be teased — and help her find a verbal rather than a physical way to express it. ‘You are very mad at your brother for teasing you,’ says this model parent, ‘I would be, too. Tell him in words how angry you feel. He needs to know.’ This way, the girl can protect herself from her brother and purge herself of her anger without having to resort to physical violence. Her self-protective anger remains intact. It has simply been given a ore ‘civilized’ form of expression. "

― , The Emotional Incest Syndrome: What to do When a Parent's Love Rules Your Life

57 " I thought if I didnt take a break, I would do something even worse. Like yell or hang up the phone. "

― Stephen Chbosky , The Perks of Being a Wallflower

58 " His mama put down the bag and headed for the door, her mouth a thin line.
“Wait! What are you doing? Don’t go over there and yell at her.” Paul jumped off the stool and tried to beat her to the door.
“Oh, honey, I would never do that.” His mama stepped into the hallway. “I’m fixin’ to invite her for dinner. "

― Mary Jane Hathaway , The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River, #1)

59 " And,” I continued, “I’m probably going to be a bitch most of the time. I guarantee I’ll find a reason to yell at you almost every day, and don’t be surprised if a few drinks get dumped on you from time to time. That’s just me, and you’re going to have to deal with it. Because I’m not changing for you or anyone else. And I-”
Wesley slid off his bar stool and pressed his lips against mine before the words could get out. My heart pounded as every thought vacated my mind. One of his arms encircled my waist, pulling me as close to him as possible, and his free hand cupped my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. He kissed me so passionately I thought we would catch on fire.
It wasn’t until after he pulled away, both of us in need of some air, that I could think straight again.
“You jerk!” I yelled, pushing him away from me. “Kissing me to make me shut up? God, you’re so obnoxious. I could just throw something at you right now.”
Wesley hopped onto his bar stool with a big grin, and I suddenly remembered him telling me that I was sexy when I was mad at him. Go figure. “Excuse me, Joe,” he called to the bartender. “I think Bianca wants a Cherry Coke.”
Despite my best efforts, I smiled. He wasn’t perfect, or even remotely close, for that matter, but, hey, neither was I. We were both pretty fucked up. Somehow, though, that made everything more exciting. Yeah, it was sick and twisted, but that’s reality, right? Escape is impossible, so why not embrace it?
Wesley took my hand and laced his fingers with mine. “You look beautiful tonight, Bianca. "

― Kody Keplinger , The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend (Hamilton High, #1)

60 " Never mind the rule, 'If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all,' because that's not the route to take. Instead, look into the mirror and say those things to yourself. Then yell those things at yourself. And multiply how much that hurts by 10. And decide, should I still say these things? And walk away. "