Careful Words

fury (n.)

Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired.

William Collins (1720-1756): The Passions. Line 10.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

To the last syllable of recorded time,

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 5.

I understand a fury in your words,

But not the words.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Othello. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,

Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

William Congreve (1670-1729): The Mourning Bride. Act iii. Sc. 8.

  Dare to look up to God and say, "Make use of me for the future as Thou wilt. I am of the same mind; I am one with Thee. I refuse nothing which seems good to Thee. Lead me whither Thou wilt. Clothe me in whatever dress Thou wilt."

Epictetus (Circa 60 a d): That we do not study to make Use of the established Principles concerning Good and Evil. Chap. xvi.

Beware the fury of a patient man.

John Dryden (1631-1701): Absalom and Achitophel. Part i. Line 1005.

  We shall find no fiend in hell can match the fury of a disappointed woman,—scorned, slighted, dismissed without a parting pang.

Colley Cibber (1671-1757): Love's Last Shift. Act iv.

Pray, Goody, please to moderate the rancour of your tongue!

Why flash those sparks of fury from your eyes?

Remember, when the judgment's weak the prejudice is strong.

Kane O'Hara (—— -1782): Midas. Act i. Sc. 4.

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise

(That last infirmity of noble mind)

To scorn delights, and live laborious days;

But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,

And think to burst out into sudden blaze,

Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorred shears

And slits the thin-spun life.

John Milton (1608-1674): Lycidas. Line 70.

My galligaskins, that have long withstood

The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts,

By time subdued (what will not time subdue!),

A horrid chasm disclosed.

John Philips (1676-1708): The Splendid Shilling. Line 121.