The disease which the experience of death cures is the rage to live.
--James Hillman, Blue Fire
Now I break up in pieces that fly about like clubs.
A wind of such violence
Will tolerate no bystanding: I must shriek.
--Sylvia Plath, Elm
I tear at her wrist with my beak to draw blood,
As a bull that breaks its chains just when the knife
so danced the Minotaur, and my shrewd Guide
In great rage, she left the palace and entered the rock cave of heaven. She locked the door and remained there in isolation. Now that her brilliance no longer illuminated heaven and earth, day became as black as night.
I have not been able to touch the destruction within me.
``The devil told you that! The devil told you that!" shrieked the little man. And in his rage he stamped his right foot into the ground so deep that he sank up to his waist.
Then in his rage he seized his left leg with both hands and tore himself asunder in the middle.
--The Brothers Grimm, Rumpelstiltskin
The man offering water was immediately enraged, so much so he was blinded by it, and seizing the rider down from his camel, killed him on the spot. Oh la! He was immediately aggrieved that he had been consumed by rage.
--The Withered Trees, a Middle Eastern folk tale