Angry Sarcastic Quotes

A nasty letter or a sarcastic one can make you righteously angry, but what can you do about a polite letter of rejection? Nothing, really, except cry.

Jen put her hands on her hips and pinned Sally with the famous 'you're going to spit it out or I'm going to rip it out of you’ look. "You talked?" Jen asked sarcastically. "Sally," she cleared her throat then continued, "you have a mate. A guaranteed husband. A sure thing. Not to mention he's hot, funny, sweet, and he has a dimple. You talked?" She repeated. This time Jen's voice was skeptical. Before Sally could defend herself, however, her door opened slowly, calculatingly. "I know you weren't describing me Jennifer. So who is this male who has caught your eye so descriptively? Please do tell, so that I can rip him to pieces." Decebel's power filled the room and Sally took an involuntary step away from the very angry Alpha.

Somehow I found him. Somehow I found Al's sarcastic thoughts, bitter and old. Tired, angry, bored. Alone.

She did not know many beautiful animals that had sweet tempers, except perhaps butterflies. Then again, there wasn’t enough to a butterfly to properly be called a temper. That options did an angry butterfly have, anyway? Stamping eylashed-sized feet? Flapping its wings in a sarcastic manner?

Trying to make her angry is like trying to find a corner on a bowling ball.

Peter pushed off from the roof and stalked a few feet away, his back to her. “Please tell me this is all some kind of a sick joke.” “It’s the truth. All of it. That’s why hunters are after me.” “How did they find out?” Peter asked, swiveling toward her now. “I think Beck ratted me out. I went to his house this morning and told him what had happened. He was furious, Peter. I’ve never seen anyone that angry.” “Duh! Now there’s a surprise,” her friend replied sarcastically. “I saw the way he looked at you at your dad’s funeral. Of course he’d be mad. You’re about the only one on the planet who doesn’t realize how he feels about you.” “He never said anything,” she retorted. “Hey, we guys don’t blurt out that kind of stuff,” he replied. “It’s against the man code. Beck may never have said how he felt, but everything he did for you should have been a big clue. I mean, come on, how slow are you?” She glowered at her friend. “I figured he was doing it because of my father.” “Maybe, but the guy is really into you, Riley.” “No way. If he’d liked me, he wouldn’t have blown me off and—” “Ancient history, girl!” he countered. “You were, what, fifteen? Your dad would have torn him apart if he’d touched you. Beck had no other choice.” “He didn’t have to be so mean.” “God, will you listen to yourself?” Peter retorted. “You have no idea how much he hurt me,” she shot back. “Give it up, will you? You’re my best friend, but you can be a real self-centered asshat sometimes.

I'm still furious with you," she murmured, kissing a line down his chest. "Oh, God, please don't be furious," he choked out quickly. "Every female I know is furious with me. Rosalyn throws tantrums, and Charlotte hasn't spoken to me or written since you left." He moved his hands to unbutton her gown. "The morning I thought you'd sailed out of my life I started drinking and didn't stop until I'd finished two bottles. For three days I had a blistering headache, and Nedda couldn't for the life of her stop banging things." He groaned. "And I can't even begin to tell you about your sisters.

Girlfriend? That's cute." Some people yelled when they got angry. Jason got sarcastic. Always. " Are you taking her to the dance next month? You should probably call ahead; I'm not sure if they let pets in-even ones that are house-trained.

What options did an angry butterfly have, anyway? Stamping eyelash-sized feet? Flapping its wings in a sarcastic manner? In

When I got to school the next morning I had stepped only one foot in the quad when he spotted me and nearly tackled me to the ground. “Jamie!” he hollered, rushing across the lawn without caring the least bit about the scene he was creating. The next thing I knew, my feet were off the ground and I was squished so tightly in Ryan’s arms that I could barely breathe. “Okay, Ryan?” I coughed in a hushed tone. “This is exactly the kind of thing that can get you killed.” “I don’t care, I’m not letting go. Don’t ever disappear like that again!” he scolded, but his voice was more relieved than angry. “It’s been days! You had your mother worried sick!” “My mother?” I questioned sarcastically. Ryan laughed as he finally set me back on my feet. “Okay, fine, me too.” He still wouldn’t let go of me, though. He was gripping my arms while he looked at me with those eyes, and that smile… You know, being all Ryan-ish. And then, when I got lost in the moment, he totally took advantage of how whipped I was and he kissed me. The jerk. He just pulled my face to his right then and there, in the middle of a crowded quad full of students, where I could have accidentally unleashed an electrical storm at any moment. And okay, maybe I liked it, and maybe I even needed it, but still! You can’t just go kissing Jamie Baker whenever you want, even if you are Ryan Miller! “Ryan!” I yelled as soon as I was able to pull away from him—which admittedly took a minute. “I’m sorry.” Ryan laughed with this big dopey grin on his face and then kissed me some more. I had to push him away from me. “Don’t be sorry, just stop!” I realized I was screaming at him when I felt a hundred different pairs of eyes on me. I tried to ignore the audience that Ryan seemed oblivious to and dropped the audio a few decibels. “I wasn’t kidding when I said this has to stop. Look, I will be your friend. I want to be your friend. But that’s it. We can’t be anything more. It’ll never work.” Ryan watched me for a minute and then whispered, “Don’t do that.” I was shocked to hear the sudden emotion in his voice. “Don’t give up.” It was hopeless. “Fine!” I snapped. “I’ll be your stupid girlfriend!” Big shocker, me giving Ryan his way, I know. But let’s face it—it’s just what I do best. I had to at least act a little tough, though. “But!” I said in the harshest voice I was capable of. “You can’t ever touch me unless I say. No more tackling me, and especially no more surprise kissing.” He actually laughed at my request. “No promises.” Stupid, cocky boyfriend. “You’re crazy. You know that, right?” Ryan got this big cheesy smile on his face and said, “Crazy about you.” “Ugh,” I groaned. “Would you be serious for a minute? Why do you insist on putting your life in danger?” “Because I like you.” His stupid grin was infectious. I wanted to be angry, but how could I with him looking at me like that? “I’m not worth it, you know,” I said stubbornly. “I have issues. I’m unstable.” “You’re cute when you’re unstable,” Ryan said, “and I like your issues.” The stupid boy was straight-up giddy now. But he was so cute that I cracked a smile despite myself. “You really are crazy,” I muttered.

I can tell you that these two statues are not monkeys native to India. This one’s a spider monkey. They come from South America. This one is a chimpanzee, which is technically an ape, not a monkey. They’re often classified as monkeys because of their size.” I gaped at him. “How do you know so much about monkeys?” He crossed him arms over his chest. “Ah, so am I to assume that talking about monkeys is an approved topic of conversation? Perhaps if I were a monkey instead of a tiger you might clue me in as to why you’re avoiding me.” “I’m not avoiding you. I just need some space. It has nothing to do with your species. It has to do with other things.” “What other things?” “Nothing.” “It’s something.” “It can’t be anything.” “What can’t be anything?” “Can we just get back to the monkeys?” I yelled. “Fine!” he hollered back. We stood there glaring at each other for a minute, both of us frustrated and angry. He went back to examining the various monkeys and ticking off a list of their traits. Before I could stop myself, I shot off a sarcastic, “I had no idea that I was walking with a monkey expert, but, then again, you have eaten them right? So I guess that would be the difference between say, pork and chicken, to someone like me.” Ren scowled at me. “I lived in zoos and circuses for centuries, remember? And I don’t…eat…monkeys!

The point is, you are most you, at your best, when you create the roles that make you feel most alive: witty, lyrical, speculative, loving, but also, and here’s the rub, cynical, sarcastic, angry, muddled, sad—for negative states can be just as vital as positive ones. Fullness is the goal, myriad-mindedness (a happy phrase Coleridge conjured to describe Shakespeare): to be as varied and capacious as the cosmos. With this bigness, containing the most sublime and the low at once, you can hope that generosity will win out over the meanness, that you will foster the democratic, merciful embrace of what is as well as what ought to be. The best actor, Hamlet asserts, uses all gently.

When Lauren returned from lunch there were two dozen breathtakingly gorgeous red roses in a vase on her desk. She removed the card from its envelope and stared at it in blank amazement. On it was written "Thank you, sweetheart," followed by the initial J. When Lauren looked up,Nick was standing in the doorway,his shoulder casually propped against the frame. But there was nothing casual about the rigid set of his jaw or the freezing look in his gray eyes. "From a secret admirer?" he asked sarcastically. It was the first personal comment he had addressed to her in four days. "Not a secret admirer exactly," she hedged. "Who is he?" Lauren tensed. He seemed so angry she didn't think it would be wise to mention Jim's name. "I'm not absolutely certain." "You aren't absolutely certain?" he bit out. "How many men with the inital J are you seeing? How many of them think you're worth more than a hundred dollars in roses as a way of saying thank you?" "A hundred dollars?" Lauren repeated, so appalled at the expense that she completely overlooked the fact that Nick had obviously opened the envelope and read the card. "You must be getting better at it," he mocked crudely. Inwardly Lauren flinched, but she lifted her chin. "I have much better teachers now!" With an icy glance that raked her from head to toe,Nick turned on his heel and strode back into his office. For the rest of the day he left her completely alone.

In your journal, note which of the following statements describe one or both of your parents (Gibson 2015). My parent often overreacted to relatively minor things. My parent didn’t express much empathy or awareness of my feelings. When it came to deeper feelings and emotional closeness, my parent seemed uncomfortable and didn’t go there. My parent was often irritated by individual differences or different points of view. When I was growing up, my parent used me as a confidant but wasn’t a confidant for me. My parent often said and did things without thinking about people’s feelings. I didn’t get much attention or sympathy from my parent, except maybe when I was really sick. My parent was inconsistent—sometimes wise, sometimes unreasonable. Conversations mostly centered on my parent’s interests. If I became upset, my parent either said something superficial and unhelpful or got angry and sarcastic. Even polite disagreement could make my parent very defensive. It was deflating to tell my parent about my successes because it didn’t seem to matter. I frequently felt guilty for not doing enough or not caring enough for them. Facts and logic were no match for my parent’s opinions. My parent wasn’t self-reflective and rarely looked at their part in a problem. My parent tended to be a black-and-white thinker, unreceptive to new ideas.

Any relationship will have its difficulties, but sometimes those problems are indicators of deep-rooted problems that, if not addressed quickly, will poison your marriage. If any of the following red flags—caution signs—exist in your relationship, we recommend that you talk about the situation as soon as possible with a pastor, counselor or mentor. Part of this list was adapted by permission from Bob Phillips, author of How Can I Be Sure: A Pre-Marriage Inventory.1 You have a general uneasy feeling that something is wrong in your relationship. You find yourself arguing often with your fiancé(e). Your fiancé(e) seems irrationally angry and jealous whenever you interact with someone of the opposite sex. You avoid discussing certain subjects because you’re afraid of your fiancé(e)’s reaction. Your fiancé(e) finds it extremely difficult to express emotions, or is prone to extreme emotions (such as out-of-control anger or exaggerated fear). Or he/she swings back and forth between emotional extremes (such as being very happy one minute, then suddenly exhibiting extreme sadness the next). Your fiancé(e) displays controlling behavior. This means more than a desire to be in charge—it means your fiancé(e) seems to want to control every aspect of your life: your appearance, your lifestyle, your interactions with friends or family, and so on. Your fiancé(e) seems to manipulate you into doing what he or she wants. You are continuing the relationship because of fear—of hurting your fiancé(e), or of what he or she might do if you ended the relationship. Your fiancé(e) does not treat you with respect. He or she constantly criticizes you or talks sarcastically to you, even in public. Your fiancé(e) is unable to hold down a job, doesn’t take personal responsibility for losing a job, or frequently borrows money from you or from friends. Your fiancé(e) often talks about aches and pains, and you suspect some of these are imagined. He or she goes from doctor to doctor until finding someone who will agree that there is some type of illness. Your fiancé(e) is unable to resolve conflict. He or she cannot deal with constructive criticism, or never admits a mistake, or never asks for forgiveness. Your fiancé(e) is overly dependant on parents for finances, decision-making or emotional security. Your fiancé(e) is consistently dishonest and tries to keep you from learning about certain aspects of his or her life. Your fiancé(e) does not appear to recognize right from wrong, and rationalizes questionable behavior. Your fiancé(e) consistently avoids responsibility. Your fiancé(e) exhibits patterns of physical, emotional or sexual abuse toward you or others. Your fiancé(e) displays signs of drug or alcohol abuse: unexplained absences of missed dates, frequent car accidents, the smell of alcohol or strong odor of mouthwash, erratic behavior or emotional swings, physical signs such as red eyes, unkempt look, unexplained nervousness, and so on. Your fiancé(e) has displayed a sudden, dramatic change in lifestyle after you began dating. (He or she may be changing just to win you and will revert back to old habits after marriage.) Your fiancé(e) has trouble controlling anger. He or she uses anger as a weapon or as a means of winning arguments. You have a difficult time trusting your fiancé(e)—to fulfill responsibilities, to be truthful, to help in times of need, to make ethical decisions, and so on. Your fiancé(e) has a history of multiple serious relationships that have failed—a pattern of knowing how to begin a relationship but not knowing how to keep one growing. Look over this list. Do any of these red flags apply to your relationship? If so, we recommend you talk about the situation as soon as possible with a pastor, counselor or mentor.

She was sharp, and acrid of temperament; and in her speech she was sarcastic at most times, and when angry, incisive and severe. Her words at such times fell like nettles upon those at whom she thrust them.

___________ My parent often overreacted to relatively minor things. ___________ My parent didn’t express much empathy or emotional awareness. ___________ When it came to emotional closeness and feelings, my parent seemed uncomfortable and didn’t go there. ___________ My parent was often irritated by individual differences or different points of view. ___________ When I was growing up, my parent used me as a confidant but wasn’t a confidant for me. ___________ My parent often said and did things without thinking about people’s feelings. ___________ I didn’t get much attention or sympathy from my parent, except maybe when I was really sick. ___________ My parent was inconsistent—sometimes wise, sometimes unreasonable. ___________ If I became upset, my parent either said something superficial and unhelpful or got angry and sarcastic. ___________ Conversations mostly centered on my parent’s interests. ___________ Even polite disagreement could make my parent very defensive. ___________ It was deflating to tell my parent about my successes because it didn’t seem to matter. ___________ Facts and logic were no match for my parent’s opinions. ___________ My parent wasn’t self-reflective and rarely looked at his or her role in a problem. ___________ My parent tended to be a black-and-white thinker, and unreceptive to new ideas. How many of these statements describe your parent? Since all these items are potential signs of emotional immaturity, checking more than one suggests you very well may have been dealing with an emotionally immature parent.

Say something,” she forced out, already bracing for an unfavorable reaction. Annoyance. Or amusement. Or worst of all, pity. Ewan still looked odd, as if he hadn’t quite understood what she’d said. “You love me?” She supposed she could pretend it was a joke. By now, he must be used to her sarcastic ways. He might almost believe her. And if he did, it would salve her pride, if not the gaping wound inside her. But she’d ventured this far. She wasn’t coward enough to retreat. With shaking hands, she dragged the sheet up to cover her nakedness, hoping the fragile linen might armor her against the hurt she’d invited. She pressed back against the bedhead. “Yes.” The blue eyes continued to measure her with almost detached curiosity. “I’m….I’m astonished.” Better than pity, she supposed. At least it should be. “You don’t have to love me back. After all, it’s absurd to fall in love in the space of a few days.” To her chagrin, a ghost of a smile played around his lips. “Absurd.” Anger came to her aid. Thank goodness. She’d much rather feel angry than vulnerable. “This doesn’t have to make you feel uncomfortable. I won’t cling, or pine, or make scenes.” “I’m not uncomfortable,” he said steadily. His expression remained enigmatic. “Well, good,” she said, at a loss. Her fingers tightened on the sheet. What on earth happened now? Had she expected him to tell her he loved her too? The shaming truth was that somewhere deep inside her, she’d hoped that if she was henwitted enough to crash headlong in love with him, he might love her back. If only a little. “Charlotte, I didn’t fall in love with you in a couple of days.” He spoke deliberately, making every word count. She flinched at his honesty. Although she supposed the truth was kinder in the long run. Even if right now, she felt like he stuck a knife into her. “You don’t have to—” He raised his hand to silence her. “I fell in love with you at first sight. Before I met you.” Bewildered,

OF COURSE I’M BEING SARCASTIC! I

As far as dads go, he wasn't great. He got angry a lot for no reason, he took absolutely no interest in stuff that you liked but he thought was dumb (...) He made you think you were crazy or oversensitive or misremembering the way something happened, he could be really caustic and negative about the state of the world." That last one hit a little too close to home for me. One of my biggest fears was turning out like my dad in someway, and his sarcastic humor was definitely one thing I'd inherited, for better or for worse. "But he was just a dude," Conner said again. "A really sad dude, when you think about it. He had so many opportunities to have really close, meaningful relationships with his kids, and he never took any of them.

October 6 Dear Cora, I’ve decided to write you a letter like the one I asked each person in the Friday class to write to explain why they got an A this year. Here it is: May 18 Dear Cora, I got my A because I finally broke the cycle of lashing out at people when they didn’t do exactly what I wanted them to do. I came to see that when I got angry with people or became sarcastic, it was like wiping them out, and our relationship never fully recovered. It was hard for me to “get” that what I wanted was not necessarily what they wanted. For example, if we were preparing an important and difficult concert and players didn’t come to a rehearsal or came late, I would be disappointed and angry because I thought that they should care as much about the project as I did and let nothing stand in the way of being there. Now I see that in a volunteer orchestra whose players have many other commitments, I cannot assume that everyone’s priorities are exactly the same as mine. I have come to realize that people will do what they want to do—which means that sometimes they will come to rehearsals and sometimes they won’t—and I must respect their decisions. And if in my view they fail to adequately inform me of their intentions, I now ask them politely, to please, in the future, leave a message on the voice-mail, or inform the personnel manager directly, so that we can have some idea in advance of what to expect.

Additionally, you don’t even need to be angry and yelling to create a fight. Your words can be just as detrimental even if you’re saying them quietly and calmly. In fact, this could be more challenging to work through because the person saying these phrases can always fall back on, Look, I’m not yelling, am I? I’m calm, see? Sure, but you’re still being sarcastic, cruel, and disrespectful

The conclusions we draw about intentions based on the impact of others’ actions on us are rarely charitable. When a friend shows up late to the movie, we don’t think, “Gee, I’ll bet he ran into someone in need.” More likely we think, “Jerk. He doesn’t care about making me miss the beginning of the movie.” When we’ve been hurt by someone else’s behavior, we assume the worst. When a customer writes “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten to my order yet . . . ,” is he being sarcastic? Is he angry? Or is he trying to tell you that he knows you’re busy? Without tone of voice to guide us, it is easy to assume the worst. We Treat Ourselves More Charitably.

DANG IT STEVE, I’M BEING SARCASTIC! OF COURSE I KNOW IT WAS HEROBRINE! WHO ELSE DO WE KNOW THAT LIVES IN THE NETHER? HECK, WHO ELSE DO WE KNOW THAT EVER LEAVES STUPID SIGNS ALL OVER THE STUPID PLACE WHENEVER HE WANTS TO MESS AROUND WITH US?

Jesus,” he muttered then he rolled until I was on my back, his weight was on me, his hips between my legs then he said, “you’re not real fast, are you?” If he’d said this in an angry or sarcastic way, rather than a resigned and a tad bit amused way, I would have lost my mind. Instead, I said honestly, “I’m not usually this clueless. But when my brother is murdered; I’m waiting for the next crazy gift to be delivered to my door which might cause my head to explode; I fall in love with a man and he moves in; and I have a future that includes another kid and I need to figure out how I’m gonna tell my daughters they might have a brother or sister sometime in the future, I get a little out of it. In my defense, most women would.” “What?” Joe asked when I stopped talking and I realized his body had gone tense again, so tense it felt like even his cells had stopped moving he had that tight a rein. I put a hand to his face and answered, “I thought you said you wanted a kid.” “Before that.” I thought for a second and asked, “My head exploding?” His body moved but only to press mine deeper into the bed. “After that, Vi,” he growled and I was getting confused again because he was sounding impatient again, very impatient, close to losing it impatient. “I’m in love with you?” I asked quietly. “Yeah, baby, that.” “What about it?” “What about it?” he repeated. “Yeah, um… do you… uh…” Shit! He wasn’t ready for that. Now what did I say? “Is that too much for you? Should I have –?” He cut me off by roaring with laughter. Roaring. So loud I was pretty sure he’d wake the girls (and Mooch). “What’s funny?” I asked him and he shoved his face in my neck but his hands started roaming. “You think maybe you might have wanted to tell me that?” “Tell you what?” His head came up. “Honey, keep up with me because this is pretty fuckin’ important.” I felt my temperature increase as my anger elevated and I did my best to lock it down. “I’m not following you, Joe. Maybe you could explain?” His mouth came to mine and he whispered, “You’re in love with me.” “Well, yeah.” “Didn’t you think maybe you should share that with me?” “Um… I thought I did.” He kissed me lightly then his mouth went away but not far away when he said, “Woulda remembered that, buddy.” “But, I gave up Mike and you’re moved in.” “Yeah. So?” “With me and the girls.” He didn’t say, “Yeah. So?” again, he let his silence say it. “Doesn’t that say it all?” I asked. “I mean, I wouldn’t let just any guy move in with me and the girls. I’m not like that. He’d have to mean something to me, like you do.” I felt his body relax into mine before he asked quietly, “When did you know?” “What?” “That you loved me, when did you know?” I felt my temperature decrease and my hand slid up his back and into his hair. “I don’t know. I just knew,” I answered softly. “Vi –” he said my name on a gentle warning. Quickly, to get it out because, being Joe he wasn’t going to let it go and when I said it, it was going to make me sound stupid, I told him. “When you said, ‘Baby, you aren’t wearing any shoes’ that second night we were together at your house.” Immediately, he replied, “I knew you were the one when you were standin’ in my living room, wearing those stupid-ass boots, your nightie and that ratty robe.” “That was the night we first met.” “Yep.” I was the one for Joe and he knew it the first night we met. He knew I was the one. The one. The one. And he knew it the first night we met.

Why didn’t you tell us?” Despite her pain, Kat lifted her chin defiantly. “Didn’t want…your pity. And after the fight we had I didn’t…didn’t think you two would want to touch me anyway.” “You mean you didn’t think I would want to.” Deep shook his head. “Goddess damn you, Kat, for your stupid, stubborn pride. Don’t you know I’d do anything to keep you from pain?” Standing, he began stripping off his shirt. But when he reached for her, Kat had a sudden thought. “Wait,” she protested as he bent toward her. “Lock said…said it hurts you to touch too much if…if the other one isn’t there.” She gestured weakly at his bare chest. “Too much skin-to-skin contact…without Lock…will hurt you.” “You think I give a damn about that?” Deep’s voice was an angry growl but he gathered her into his arms with surprising gentleness. “Come here, damn you. Let me hold you,” he murmured, settling himself on the flat boulder with her in his lap. Kat couldn’t help it—she didn’t want to give him pain, but the immediate relief she felt when his broad, warm chest came in contact with her cheek was too wonderful to deny. His arms around her were so comforting and strong and the scent of his skin made her feel safe—protected. Suddenly, though she didn’t know why, she was crying. Stop crying, stupid! It’s bad enough that holding you hurts him, he doesn’t want you crying all over him too! But she couldn’t stop. And to her surprise, Deep didn’t say a thing. No sarcastic remarks or biting observations—he just held her closer and stroked her hair in a gentle rhythm that somehow calmed her down. “I’m

Oh, for God’s sake,” she spat out. “Just say it. You’re involved with someone and it doesn’t work into your plans to spend time in Virgin River!” “That’s not it,” he said nervously. “You know everything about me! Yet you couldn’t even casually mention you were seeing someone at home?” “It’s not like that. Listen, I just need some time on this. Some patience. Because I really intend to do better by you than I have. I know I haven’t been here for you like I meant to be and—” “Stop!” she said. “I haven’t asked you for anything except to stay in touch! Stop whimpering!” He scowled. His neck got red. “I’m not whimpering!” “Well, you sure as hell aren’t talking! Man up!” “I’m trying! But you’re doing all the talking for me!” She had a few more hot retorts, but bit her tongue against them. She pursed her lips. He had been in Virgin River for months, but he went back to Grants Pass almost every week for a day or two. He had said it was to check on the construction company he’d left in the hands of his father and brothers. And to check on her? It must’ve been pretty hard on her to be asked to understand he had to be away so much, tending to his best friend’s widow. Imagine now, being told he’d have to make frequent trips to Virgin River to make sure the widow and baby were doing all right. Talk about complicated. Well, she wasn’t interested in that kind of relationship. “I think you’re trying to tell me there’s a woman back in Grants Pass who’s counting on you. You have obligations there.” “Yeah,” he said weakly. “But, Vanni, I have obligations here, as well. You and Mattie, you’re awful important to me…” Being referred to as an obligation should have made her want to cry, but instead it made her furious. “Well, don’t worry your little head. We’re getting along just fine—better every day. You have a life in Grants Pass. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.” “You’re not listening,” he said, his voice raising to match hers. “I want to be here with you, as often as possible,” he said. “I’m doing my damn best!” “It sounds like you have other things, other people you’d better pay attention to.” “Listen, things can happen that you don’t plan, don’t expect!” “Oh really?” she asked sarcastically. “Tell me about it,” she said. She hadn’t expected her husband to die, or to fall in love with Paul. If there was one thing she knew about the men in her life—her father, her late husband, Paul and all the guys who seemed to gather around him—they didn’t make commitments lightly, and once a promise was made, they never broke an oath. “I’m sure you’ll get everything straightened out,” she said. She tried to keep the angry edge out of her voice, but she was thoroughly unsuccessful. “Please, you have no obligations here. We’ll be fine. I don’t know why you didn’t just tell me—a long time ago! Did you think I wouldn’t understand you had to get home because there was someone there? Someone who was counting on you?” “It isn’t like that!” “You could have just told me!” “Vanessa! For God’s sake—” Paul attempted. Walt walked into the room. He looked stricken, startled. “Are you having an argument about something?” “No!” they both said. “Oh,” Walt said. “Poetry, I guess. Some new kind of poetry?” Vanessa hissed and Paul just shook his head. “I hear the baby,” she said, whirling out of the room. “I hear something, too,” Paul said, leaving in the opposite direction, charging out the front door and letting it slam behind him. Walt was left alone in the great room in front of a blazing hearth. “Well,” he said to himself. “Glad to know that wasn’t an argument.” *

The thing that gets me is, when I switched to doing an MBA at night while working at Bexley, he was unimpressed. Like he'd had any kind of opinion. Like I wasn't even noticed or acknowledged enough to disappoint. But I have, Over and over, my entire life. My career is a joke to him." I'm surprised by how angry I'm getting. I think of Anthony, his face permanently twisted into a sarcastic expression, "He's lost something special in you, Why is he like this?" "I don't know. If I knew, maybe I could change it. He's just been that way with me, and most people.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, Maziar,” he said sarcastically. “Don’t play games with me, or you will make me angry again. Don’t tell me that you don’t know about these parties where men and women start with dinner and drinking alcohol and then go to the swimming pool, where they eat chocolate off each other’s bodies.” I sat silently, trying to picture it. How on earth does one eat chocolate off another person’s body in a swimming pool? I had a picture in my mind of chocolate floating on the surface of the water, and then I began to imagine the mixed taste of chlorine and chocolate.

I WAS BEING SARCASTIC, POTATO BRAIN! MORE SILVERFISH IS THE LAST THING ANYONE COULD EVER POSSIBLY WANT OR NEED!

I'm sure some expensive psychiatrist could say smart things about my drinking habits, and the fact that I'm always angry, and that I tend to be sarcastic and nasty to new people as a way of pushing them away, and not wanting to get with Kyle, and they could easily pinpoint everything down to the shit with my mum, and abandonment issues, blah blah blah. And I could just roll over and accept that's who I am, or I could fight...I could fight to change myself...to grow...even if it hurt, I would grow.

But I do believe they think I am some sort of god.” Chewbacca and R2-D2 found this extremely amusing. Han and Luke exchanged glances, then Han said sarcastically, “Well, why don’t you use your divine influence and get us out of this?” “I beg your pardon, General Solo,” C-3PO said, “but that just wouldn’t be proper.” Getting angry again, Han asked, “Proper?!” “It’s against my programming to impersonate a deity,” C-3PO explained.

You left me,” he said tersely, his gaze unwavering on her. She exhaled. “I am sorry. I am sorry for borrowing your ship, and I—” “You left me after the night we shared.” She tried not to think about being in his arms, when he had seemed to love her as much as she loved him. “I told you that morning what I intended. The time we shared didn’t change anything.” She saw him flinch. “It was wonderful, but I meant it when I said I had to go home. I know you are angry. I know I took the coward’s way, and I shouldn’t have conned Mac—” “I don’t care about the ship!” he cried, stunning her. “I am glad you took my frigate—at least you would be safe from rovers. Damn it! I made love to you and you left me!” She hugged herself harder, trying to ignore that painful figure of speech. “I knew you would want to marry me, Cliff, for all the wrong reasons. How could I accept that? The night we spent together only fueled my desire to leave.” “For all the wrong reasons? Our passion fueled your desire to leave me?” “You misunderstand me,” she cried. “I do not want to hurt you. But you ruined me, you would decide to marry me. Honor is not the right reason, not for me.” He stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “Do you even know my reasons, Amanda?” “Yes, I do.” Somehow she tilted up her chin, yet she felt tears falling. “You are the most honorable man I have ever met. I know my letter hardly stated the depth of my feelings, but after all you have done, and all your family has done, you must surely know that leaving you was very difficult.” “The depth of your feelings,” he said. His nostrils flared, his gaze brilliant. “Do you refer to the friendship you wish to maintain—your affection for me?” He was cold and sarcastic, taking a final step toward her. He towered over her now. She wanted to step backward, away from him, but she held her ground. “I didn’t think you would wish to continue our friendship. But it is so important to me. I will beg you to forgive me so we can remain dear friends.” “I don’t want to be a dear friend,” he said harshly. “And goddamn it, do not tell me you felt as a friend does when you were in my bed!” She stiffened. “That’s not fair.” “You left me. That’s not fair,” he shot back, giving no quarter. “After all you have done, it wasn’t fair, I agree completely. But I was desperate.” He shook his head. “I will never believe you are desperate to be a shopkeeper. And what woman is truly independent? Only a spinster or a widow. You are neither.” Slowly, hating her words, she said, “I had planned on the former.” “Like hell,” he spat. She accepted the dread filling her then. “You despise me now.” “Are you truly so ignorant, so oblivious? How on earth could I ever despise you?” he exclaimed, leaning closer. “Would I be standing here demanding marriage if I despised you?” She started. Her heart skipped wildly; she tried to ignore it. She whispered, “Why did you really pursue me?” “I am a de Warenne,” he said, straightening. “As my father said so recently, there is no stopping us, not if it is a question of love.

Is all that to celebrate our return?", asked Gwizdo, puzzled. "The day I celebrate you will be your departure", responded Jeanneline sarcastically. "No, it's for Zoria. She's coming to visit." Lian-Chu's face lit up when he heard the name of the young girl, who he himself had trained in the profession and liked very much. Gwizdo's face, however, winced in an angry grin. "Zoria?!? Are you nuts, Jeanneline? Why not invite all the other competition while you're at it? No, but it's true!" Jeanneline scowled and fixed her gaze on Gwizdo. "I'll have you know that Zoria is my daughter and that she is also Zaza's older sister. And first of all, if my Zoria became a dragon hunter, you only have yourselves to blame.

But it wasn’t our fault,” said Sara. “Of course not,” said Wyatt scathingly. “You were on board the launch for a tour of the canal system, which leaves London Bridge every hour on the hour!” “You’re being sarcastic because you’re angry,” said Andrew patiently, “but it really wasn’t our fault. We were on the launch because we’d been kidnapped.” “Kidnapped where and when?” “At Beasley’s shop this morning.” “What were you doing there?” “Looking for Sean.” “Why?” Andrew hesitated, glancing at Sara. They were standing just outside the warehouse—he, Sara, Wyatt, Beasley, and, somewhat surprisingly, Captain Clemson. The reason he hesitated was that Wyatt might have a right to be angry at this point. And then, again surprisingly, Clemson spoke up. “Excuse me, inspector,” he said. “I don’t want to interfere, but they weren’t on the launch of their own free will. The Indians had them in the house and brought them along.” “Is he a friend of yours?” Sara asked Wyatt, looking at Clemson. “In a way,” said Wyatt. “But he seems to be a friend of yours, too, trying to find excuses for your being in a place where you shouldn’t have been." “Look, we all know why you’re so angry, inspector,” said Beasley. “It’s because you like this pair of rapscallions—as who doesn’t—and you were worried about them. But I suspect things wouldn’t have worked out as nicely as they did if it wasn’t for them. I’ll bet they were the ones who spotted us from the house.” “You don’t say! And what do you want me to do about it—give them each a medal?” “No,” said Andrew, playing on the fact that Wyatt was speaking a little more moderately. “All we want is for you not to be quite so angry with us.” “And of course let us know what’s been going on,” said Sara. “Exactly what’s been happening and why.” “You would want to know that,” said Wyatt dryly. “And you’ll remember everything I say, and the next time it’ll be even harder to keep you out of any case you get within a mile of.

2. Say, “I need to make sure that I heard exactly what you said, so I don’t go off in some wrong direction. If I heard you right, what you said is….” Then repeat exactly what the person said, calmly and with no angry or sarcastic inflection in your voice, and say, “Is that correct?” When you do this, you mirror the person—that powerful connecting technique I talk about in Chapter 2. You also cause the person to move from venting to listening, which slows the brain down so the person can think more intelligently.

But separation is not the only circumstance prompting avoidance behaviour. According to Mary Main and Donna R. Weston, mothers who show aversion to physical contact with the infant during the first three months of the infant’s life are likely to induce avoidance behaviour in the infant by the end of its first year. Mothers who demonstrate angry or threatening behaviour also induce avoidance in their infants. Mothers of mother-avoidant infants mocked their infants or spoke sarcastically to or about them; some stared them down.10 Mothers who go further and actually batter their babies produce infants who, as compared with controls, are more avoidant of peers and care-givers in response to friendly overtures, more likely to assault and threaten to assault them, and more likely to show unpredictable aggressive behaviour toward care-givers.11 In addition, mothers who are coldly unresponsive, that is, who show neither pleasure in response to their infants nor any reaction even when attacked by them, cause avoidance behaviour in their infants. None of these descriptions of maternal behaviour implies that such behaviour is the only cause of avoidance in the infant. Genetic differences, or brain damage, may also be implicated.

Our body is an illusion, it doesn’t stay the same, it keeps changing. Our emotions also keep changing. So, in that sense, it is all an illusion. Have you read my tweet about happiness? When you look at somebody`s face, if they don’t look happy, it is because there is a thorn of desire in their heart. Your sadness is because of the thorn of desire in your heart. If you don`t take notice of it, it will turn into sarcasm, cynicism, frustration, and anger. You need to pull it out and throw it, then you will feel uplifted and happy. These are the four stages: 1. Sarcasm 2. Cynicism 3. Frustration, and 4. Anger Many times we don`t notice why we are sarcastic, or cynical, or frustrated and angry. Why does this happen? It is because of this thorn of desire. If you are angry, either you hurt yourself or you hurt others. If you get angry at others, you become sad and if you are angry at yourself, then also you become sad. In either case you become sad. Many a times people don`t notice this at all. Even if one notices this, he doesn`t have the courage or willingness to remove it and throw it. If you manage to pull it out, you will find joy, enthusiasm, and contentment, and this is a siddhi (special ability). This requires both self effort and grace. You need to put some self effort and then grace follows.