Ranting Quotes

Some Famous Ranting Quotes

Melville

Moby Dick Captain Ahab Aye, Starbuck; aye, my hearties all round; it was Moby Dick that dismasted me; Moby Dick that brought me to this dead stump I stand on now. Aye, aye, he shouted with a terrific, loud, animal sob, like that of a heart-stricken moose; Aye, aye! it was that accursed white whale that razeed me; made a poor pegging lubber of me for ever and a day! Then tossing both arms, with measureless imprecations he shouted out: Aye, aye! and I'll chase him round Good Hope, and round the horn, and round the norway maelstrom, and round perdition's flames before I give him up. And this is what ye have shipped for, men! to chase that white whale on both sides of land, and over all sides of earth, till he spouts black blood and rolls fin out. What say ye, men, will ye splice hands on it, now? I think ye do look brave. Aye, aye! shouted the harpooneers and seamen, running closer to the excited old man: A sharp eye for the White Whale; a sharp lance for Moby Dick! God bless ye, he seemed to half sob and half shout. God bless ye, men. Steward! go draw the great measure of grog. But what's this long face about, Mr. Starbuck; wilt thou not chase the white whale? art not game for Moby Dick? Starbuck I am game for his crooked jaw, and for the jaws of Death too, Captain Ahab, if it fairly comes in the way of the business we follow; but I came here to hunt whales, not my commander's vengeance. How many barrels will thy vengeance yield thee even if thou gettest it, Captain Ahab? it will not fetch thee much in our Nantucket market. Captain Ahab Nantucket market! Hoot! But come closer, Starbuck; thou requirest a little lower layer. If money's to be the measurer, man, and the accountants have computed their great counting-house the globe, by girdling it with guineas, one to every three parts of an inch; then, let me tell thee, that my vengeance will fetch a great premium here! He smites his chest Captain Ahab 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.

Milton, John

Paradise Lost

Satan: "Is this the region, this the soil, the clime," Said then the lost Archangel, "this the seat that we must change for Heaven?--This mournful gloom for that celestial light? Be it so, since he who now is sovereign can dispose and bid what shall be right: farthest from him is best whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme above his equals. Farewell, happy fields, where joy for ever dwells! Hail, horrors! hail, infernal world! and thou, profoundest Hell, receive thy new possessor--one who brings a mind not to be changed by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven. what matter where, if I be still the same, and what I should be, all but less than he whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least we shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built here for his envy, will not drive us hence: Here we may reigh secure; and, in my choice, to reign is worth ambition, though in Hell: better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven. But wherefore let we then our faithful friends, th' associates and co-partners of our loss, lie thus astonished on th' oblivious pool, and call them not to share with us their part in this unhappy mansion, or once more with rallied arms to try what may be yet regained in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell?"

Shakespear

Titus and Andronicus , Act 5, Scene 1

LUCIUS: Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds?
AARON: Ay, that I had not done a thousand more. Even now I curse the day--and yet, I think, Few come within the compass of my curse,-- Wherein I did not some notorious ill, As kill a man, or else devise his death, Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it, Accuse some innocent and forswear myself, Set deadly enmity between two friends, Make poor men's cattle break their necks; Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night, And bid the owners quench them with their tears. Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves, And set them upright at their dear friends' doors, Even when their sorrows almost were forgot; And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, Have with my knife carved in Roman letters, 'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.' Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things As willingly as one would kill a fly, And nothing grieves me heartily indeed But that I cannot do ten thousand more.

Othello , Act 3, Scene 3

IAGO: Think, my lord!
OTHELLO: Think, my lord! By heaven, he echoes me, as if there were some monster in his thought too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something: I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that, when Cassio left my wife: what didst not like? And when I told thee he was of my counsel in my whole course of wooing, thou criedst 'Indeed!' And didst contract and purse thy brow together, as if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me, show me thy thought.
IAGO: My lord, you know I love you.
OTHELLO: I think thou dost; And, for I know thou'rt full of love and honesty, and weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath, therefore these stops of thine fright me the more: For such things in a false disloyal knave are tricks of custom, but in a man that's just they are close delations, working from the heart that passion cannot rule.
IAGO: For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.
OTHELLO: I think so too.
IAGO: Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none!
OTHELLO: Certain, men should be what they seem.
IAGO: Why, then, I think Cassio's an honest man.
OTHELLO: Nay, yet there's more in this: I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, as thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts the worst of words.
IAGO: Good my lord, pardon me: Though I am bound to every act of duty, I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false; As where's that palace whereinto foul things sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure, but some uncleanly apprehensions keep leets and law-days and in session sit with meditations lawful?
OTHELLO: Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, if thou but think'st him wrong'd and makest his ear a stranger to thy thoughts.
IAGO: I do beseech you-- Though I perchance am vicious in my guess, as, I confess, it is my nature's plague to spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy shapes faults that are not--that your wisdom yet, from one that so imperfectly conceits, would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble out of his scattering and unsure observance. It were not for your quiet nor your good, nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom, to let you know my thoughts.
OTHELLO: What dost thou mean?
IAGO: Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: But he that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him and makes me poor indeed.
OTHELLO: By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts.
IAGO: You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.
OTHELLO: Ha!
IAGO: O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in bliss who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!
OTHELLO: O misery!
IAGO: Poor and content is rich and rich enough, but riches fineless is as poor as winter to him that ever fears he shall be poor. Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend from jealousy!
OTHELLO: Why, why is this? Think'st thou I'ld make a lie of jealousy, to follow still the changes of the moon with fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt is once to be resolved: exchange me for a goat, when I shall turn the business of my soul to such exsufflicate and blown surmises, matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous to say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, is free of speech, sings, plays and dances well; Where virtue is, these are more virtuous: Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw the smallest fear or doubt of her revolt; For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago; I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove; And on the proof, there is no more but this,-- Away at once with love or jealousy!

King Lear , Act 1, Scene 2

EDMUND: Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law my services are bound. Wherefore should I stand in the plague of custom, and permit the curiosity of nations to deprive me, for that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines lag of a brother? Why bastard? Wherefore base? When my dimensions are as well compact, my mind as generous, and my shape as true, as honest madam's issue? Why brand they us with base? With baseness? Bastardy? Base, base? Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take more composition and fierce quality than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, go to the creating a whole tribe of fops, got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then, legitimate Edgar, I must have your land: Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund as to the legitimate: fine word,--legitimate! Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed, and my invention thrive, Edmund the base shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper: Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

King Lear , Act 1, Scene 4

KING LEAR: It may be so, my lord. Hear, nature, hear; dear goddess, hear! Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend To make this creature fruitful! Into her womb convey sterility! Dry up in her the organs of increase; And from her derogate body never spring A babe to honour her! If she must teem, Create her child of spleen; that it may live, And be a thwart disnatured torment to her! Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth; With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks; Turn all her mother's pains and benefits To laughter and contempt; that she may feel How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is To have a thankless child! Away, away!

Ezra Pound

from Canto XIV

   The slough of unamiable liars,
           bod of stupidities,
   malevolent stupidities, and stupidities,
   the soil of living pus, full of vermin,
   dead maggots begetting live maggots,
           slum owners,
   usurers squeezing crab-lice, pandars to authority,
   pets-de-loup, sitting on piles of stone books,
   obscuring the texts with philology.
           hiding them under their persons,
   the air without refuge of silence,
           the drift of lice, teething,
   and above it the mouthing of orators,
           the arse-belching of preachers.
           And Invidia,
   the curruptio, foetor, fungus,
   liquid animals, melted ossifications,
   slow rot, foetid combustion,
           chewed cigar-butts, without dignity, without tragedy,
   .....m Episcopus, waving a condum full of black-beetles,
   monopolists, obstructors of knowledge.
           obstructors of distribution.

Mary Shelley

from Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus The Monster I intended to reason. This passion is detrimental to me, for you do not reflect that YOU are the cause of its excess. If any being felt emotions of benevolence towards me, I should return them a hundred and a hundredfold; for that one creature's sake I would make peace with the whole kind! But I now indulge in dreams of bliss that cannot be realized. What I ask of you is reasonable and moderate; I demand a creature of another sex, but as hideous as myself; the gratification is small, but it is all that I can receive, and it shall content me. It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another. Our lives will not be happy, but they will be harmless and free from the misery I now feel. Oh! My creator, make me happy; let me feel gratitude towards you for one benefit! Let me see that I excite the sympathy of some existing thing; do not deny me my request! The Monster Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power; you believe yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of day will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your master; obey! Frankenstein The hour of my irresolution is past, and the period of your power is arrived. Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness; but they confirm me in a determination of not creating you a companion in vice. Shall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a daemon whose delight is in death and wretchedness? Begone! I am firm, and your words will only exasperate my rage. The Monster The monster saw my determination in my face and gnashed his teeth in the impotence of anger. Shall each man, cried he, find a wife for his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had feelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn. Man! You may hate, but beware! Your hours will pass in dread and misery, and soon the bolt will fall which must ravish from you your happiness forever. Are you to be happy while I grovel in the intensity of my wretchedness? You can blast my other passions, but revenge remains -- revenge, henceforth dearer than light or food! I may die, but first you, my tyrant and tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on your misery. Beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful. I will watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom. Man, you shall repent of the injuries you inflict. Frankenstein Devil, cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice. I have declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend beneath words. Leave me; I am inexorable.

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