Anger

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  Most of us think of anger as a dangerous, destructive emotion—which, of course, it most certainly can be—but its primary function is self-protection. Fear alerts you to danger, but anger helps you mobilize the energy necessary to take action. As Carol Tavris says in her fine book Anger: The Misunderstood Emotion, “anger is ultimately an emphatic message: Pay attention to me. I don’t like what you are doing. Restore my pride. You’re in my way. Danger. Give me justice.”14 Anger is self-protective, and because risks and dangers abound in the erotic adventure, we shouldn’t be surprised that sex and anger are intricately linked, with results ranging from positive to destructive. Obviously, those who are chronically angry, who feel as if life itself has done them wrong, are rarely available for sensitive lovemaking, although some are very interested in hostile sex. More than a few angry people lose interest in sex altogether or are plagued by sexual dysfunctions. Angry couples can go either way. Some conflict-ridden partners rely on clashes between them to add drama to their sex lives, while others sink into sexless bickering or outright war. Luckily, most of us are neither ruled nor defined by our anger. Instead we occasionally become angry, with varying degrees of comfort or distress. In examining your own peak turn-ons, don’t be surprised if you come across one or more in which anger functioned as an aphrodisiac. The role of anger as an arousal intensifier is crystal-clear when a fight or argument is followed by a passionate reconciliation, as in this story told by Sheila, a graduate student in her mid-thirties: I remember a night in our second year of marriage when my husband Rick and I had a terrible fight. At least I felt it was terrible. Rick says it was no big deal. It started out as a normal argument until Rick was really getting pissed off. I felt so frustrated that he wouldn’t listen to me and became very agitated myself. He can be so stubborn! He talks like a damn attorney, pounding away at me like I’m on the witness stand. Before long I became totally emotional with tears streaming down my face. Rick tried to hold me but I pushed him away. After I calmed down a little we were able to talk things out.

• From Mud Vein (2014)

  I’d told her I was writing a new book. One about Nick. She’d become flustered at that. Not in the extreme outward way a normal person becomes flustered. I don’t even know if I can pinpoint how I knew it upset her. Maybe her bracelets tinkled a little extra that day as she jotted notes down on her yellow pad. Or maybe her ruby lips pulled a little tighter. But I knew. I’d confessed to her that I’d messed everything up, but I wasn’t sure how. When we ended our session she’d grabbed my hand. “Senna,” she’d said, “do you want another chance at the truth?” “The truth?” I’d repeated, not sure of what she was getting at. “The truth that can set you free...” Her eyes had been two hot coals. I’d been close enough to smell her perfume; it smelled exotic like myrrh and burning wood. “Nothing can set me free, Saphira,” I’d said in turn. “That’s why I write.” I’d turned to leave. I was halfway out the door when she’d called my name. “Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.” I’d half smiled, and gone home and forgotten what she’d said. I’d written my book in the month after that meeting. I only needed thirty days to write a book. Thirty days in which I didn’t eat or sleep or do anything at all but clack away at my keyboard. And after the book was finished and catharsis was complete, I’d never made another appointment to see her. Her office called and left messages on my phone. She eventually called and left a message. But I was finished. “Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.” I say it out loud, the memory aching in my brain. Is that where she had the idea? To put me in this place where for a time both the sun and the moon were hidden? Where like slow, seeping molasses I would discover the crickets of truth in my heart? My zookeeper thought it kind to be my savior. And now what? I would starve and freeze here alone? What was the point of that? I hate her so. I want to tell her that her sick game didn’t work, that I’m just the same as I’ve always been: broken, bitter and self-destructive. Something comes to me then, a quote by Martin Luther King, Jr. I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. “Fuck you, Saphira!” I call out. Then I reach out in defiance and grab the fence.

• From The Strange Order of Things: Life, Feeling, and the Making of Cultures (2018)

  Such violence came largely from males, and it did not have to be justified by hunger or group-related fights for territory. It could target females and the young as well as other adult males. Humans inherited the potential for these modes of behavior, which were highly adaptive for a long stretch of human history, and biological evolution has not succeeded in eradicating the potential for violence.6 Cultural evolution, thanks to human creativity, has actually expanded the range of expressions of violence. The Florentine tradition of calico storico as well as rugby and football are good examples. Physical violence remains present in some competitive sports, as heirs to Roman gladiator spectacles, and is consistently rehearsed by varied forms of entertainment in movies, television, and the Internet. Physical violence is also abundantly present in the surgical strikes of modern warfare, terrorist and otherwise. As for nonphysical, psychological violence, it is present via unrestrained abuses of power well exemplified by the invasion of privacy made possible by modern technologies. One of the jobs of cultures has been to tame the beast that has been so often present and that remains alive as a reminder of our origins. Samuel von Pufendorf’s definition of culture addresses these points: “the means by which human beings overcome their original barbarism, and through artifice, become fully human.”7 Pufendorf does not mention homeostasis, but my take on his words is that barbarism leads to suffering and disturbed homeostasis, while cultures and civilizations aim at reducing suffering and thus restore homeostasis by resetting and constraining the course of the affected organisms. Today a significant number of cultural instruments and practices turn out to be responses to grievances and violations of rights that manifest themselves not merely as factual descriptions of certain predicaments and circumstances but as powerful and energizing emotions such as anger and revolt and as the consequent feeling states. Here we find affect and reason as two components of social movements. The anthems and poetry that celebrate the crushing of enemies in bloody victories are part of the history behind that process. From Religious Beliefs and Morality to Political GovernanceEarly medicine was not prepared to address the traumas of the human soul. But a case can be made that religious beliefs, moral systems and justice, and political governance were largely aimed at those traumas and at recovering from their consequences. I see the development of religious beliefs as most closely related to the grief of personal losses, which forced humans to confront the inevitability of death and the myriad ways in which it could come about: accidents, diseases, violence perpetrated by others, and natural catastrophes, anything but old age, a rare condition in prehistoric times. But many traumas of the human soul were inflicted by public events in the social space, and religious beliefs were appropriate responses in varied ways.8 —

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  Most of us think of anger as a dangerous, destructive emotion—which, of course, it most certainly can be—but its primary function is self-protection. Fear alerts you to danger, but anger helps you mobilize the energy necessary to take action. As Carol Tavris says in her fine book Anger: The Misunderstood Emotion, “anger is ultimately an emphatic message: Pay attention to me. I don’t like what you are doing. Restore my pride. You’re in my way. Danger. Give me justice.”14 Anger is self-protective, and because risks and dangers abound in the erotic adventure, we shouldn’t be surprised that sex and anger are intricately linked, with results ranging from positive to destructive. Obviously, those who are chronically angry, who feel as if life itself has done them wrong, are rarely available for sensitive lovemaking, although some are very interested in hostile sex. More than a few angry people lose interest in sex altogether or are plagued by sexual dysfunctions. Angry couples can go either way. Some conflict-ridden partners rely on clashes between them to add drama to their sex lives, while others sink into sexless bickering or outright war. Luckily, most of us are neither ruled nor defined by our anger. Instead we occasionally become angry, with varying degrees of comfort or distress. In examining your own peak turn-ons, don’t be surprised if you come across one or more in which anger functioned as an aphrodisiac. The role of anger as an arousal intensifier is crystal-clear when a fight or argument is followed by a passionate reconciliation, as in this story told by Sheila, a graduate student in her mid-thirties: I remember a night in our second year of marriage when my husband Rick and I had a terrible fight. At least I felt it was terrible. Rick says it was no big deal. It started out as a normal argument until Rick was really getting pissed off. I felt so frustrated that he wouldn’t listen to me and became very agitated myself. He can be so stubborn! He talks like a damn attorney, pounding away at me like I’m on the witness stand. Before long I became totally emotional with tears streaming down my face. Rick tried to hold me but I pushed him away. After I calmed down a little we were able to talk things out.

• From The Principles of Psychology (Volume 1 of 2) (1890)

  Finally take Hatred, and read the synopsis of its possible effects as given by Sig. Mantegazza:[416] "Withdrawal of the head backwards, withdrawal of the trunk; projection forwards of the hands, as if to defend one's self against the hated object; contraction or closure of the eyes; elevation of the upper lip and closure of the nose,—these are all elementary movements of turning away. Next threatening movements, as: intense frowning; eyes wide open; display of teeth; grinding teeth and contracting jaws; opened mouth with tongue advanced; clenched fists; threatening action of arms; stamping with the feet; deep inspirations—panting; growling and various cries; automatic repetition of one word or syllable; sudden weakness and trembling of voice; spitting. Finally, various miscellaneous reactions and vaso-motor symptoms: general trembling; convulsions of lips and facial muscles, of limbs and of trunk; acts of violence to one's self, as biting fist or nails; sardonic laughter; bright redness of face; sudden pallor of face; extreme dilatation of nostrils; standing up of hair on head." Were we to go through the whole list of emotions which have been named by men, and study their organic manifestations, we should but ring the changes on the elements which these three typical cases involve. Rigidity of this muscle, relaxation of that, constriction of arteries here, dilatation there, breathing of this sort or that, pulse slowing or quickening, this gland secreting and that one dry, etc., etc. We should, moreover, find that our descriptions had no absolute truth; that they only applied to the average man; that every one of us, almost, has some personal idiosyncrasy of expression, laughing or sobbing differently from his neighbor, or reddening or growing pale where others do not. We should find a like variation in the objects which excite emotion in different persons. Jokes at which one explodes with laughter nauseate another, and seem blasphemous to a third; and occasions which overwhelm me with fear or bashfulness are just what give you the full sense of ease and power. The internal shadings of emotional feeling, moreover, merge endlessly into each other. Language has discriminated some of them, as hatred, antipathy, animosity, dislike, aversion, malice, spite, vengefulness, abhorrence, etc., etc.; but in the dictionaries of synonyms we find these feelings distinguished more by their severally appropriate objective stimuli than by their conscious or subjective tone.

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  I know this method won’t get me anywhere, and that’s why I admire you. You’re never at a loss for words: you say exactly what you want to say and aren’t in the least bit shy.” “Oh, you’re wrong about that,” I replied. “Most of what I say comes out very differently from the way I’d planned. Plus I talk too much and too long, and that’s just as bad.” “Maybe, but you have the advantage that no one can see you’re embarrassed. You don’t blush or go to pieces.” I couldn’t help being secretly amused at his words. However, since I wanted him to go on talking quietly about himself, I hid my laughter, sat down on a cushion on the floor, wrapped my arms around my knees and gazed at him intently. I’m glad there’s someone else in this house who flies into the same rages as I do. Peter seemed relieved that he could criticize Dussel without being afraid I’d tell. As for me, I was pleased too, because I sensed a strong feeling of fellowship, which I only remember having had with my girlfriends. Yours, Anne TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 1944 The minor run-in with Dussel had several repercussions, for which he had only himself to blame. Monday evening Dussel came in to see Mother and told her triumphantly that Peter had asked him that morning if he’d slept well, and then added how sorry he was about what had happened Sunday evening -- he hadn’t really meant what he’d said. Dussel assured him he hadn’t taken it to heart. So everYthing was right as rain again. Mother passed this story on to me, and I was secretly amazed that Peter, who’d been so angry at Dussel, had humbled himself, despite all his assurances to the contrary. I couldn’t refrain from sounding Peter out on the subject, and he instantly replied that Dussel had been lying. You should have seen Peter’s face. I wish I’d had a camera. Indignation, rage, indecision, agitation and much more crossed his face in rapid succession. That evening Mr. van Daan and Peter really told Dussel off. But it couldn’t have been all that bad, since Peter had another dental appointment today. Actually, they never wanted to speak to each other again. WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1944 Peter and I hadn’t talked to each other all day, except for a few meaningless words. It was too cold to go up to the attic, and anyway, it was Margot’s birthday. At twelve-thirty he came to look at the presents and hung around chatting longer than was strictly necessary, something he’d never have done otherwise. But I got my chance in the afternoon. Since I felt like spoiling Margot on her birthday, I went to get the coffee, and after that the potatoes. When I came to Peter’s room, he immediately took his papers off the stairs, and I asked if I should close the trapdoor to the attic. “Sure,” he said, “go ahead.

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  Of course, there are many different opinions on this topic, and it’s not surprising to hear it frequently discussed in times of war, but. . . arguing so much about politics is just plain stupid! Let them laugh, swear, make bets, grumble and do whatever they want as long as they stew in their own juice. But don’t let them argue, since that only makes things worse. The people who come from outside bring us a lot of news that later proves to be untrue; however, up to now our radio has never lied. Jan, Miep, Mr. Kleiman, Bep and Mr. Kugler go up and down in their political moods, though Jan least of all. Here in the Annex the mood never varies. The end-less debates over the invasion, air raids, speeches, etc., etc., are accompanied by countless exclamations such as “Eempossible!, Urn Gottes Willen* [* Oh, for heaven’s sake]. If they’re just getting started now, how long is it going to last!, It’s going splendidly, But, great!” Optimists and pessimists -- not to mention the realists -- air their opinions with unflagging energy, and as with everything else, they’re all certain that they have a monopoly on the truth. It annoys a certain lady that her spouse has such supreme faith in the British, and a certain husband attacks his wife because of her teasing and dispar- aging remarks about his beloved nation! And so it goes from early in the morning to late at night; the funny part is that they never get tired of it. I’ve discovered a trick, and the effect is overwhelming, just like pricking someone with a pin and watching them jump. Here’s how it works: I start talking about politics. All it takes is a single question, a word or a sentence, and before you know it, the entire family is involved! As if the German “Wehrmacht News” and the English BBC weren’t enough, they’ve now added special air-raid announcements. In a word, splendid. But the other side of the coin is that the British Air Force is operating around the clock. Not unlike the German propaganda machine, which is cranking out lies twenty-four hours a day! So the radio is switched on every morning at eight (if not earlier) and is listened to every hour until nine, ten or even eleven at night. This is the best evidence yet that the adults have infinite patience, but also that their brains have turned to mush (some of them, I mean, since I wouldn’t want to insult anyone). One broadcast, two at the most, should be enough to last the entire day. But no, those old nincompoops. . . never mind, I’ve already said it all! “Music While You Work,” the Dutch broadcast from England, Frank Phillips or Queen Wilhelmina, they each get a turn and fInd a willing listener. If the adults aren’t eating or sleeping, they’re clustered around the radio talking about eating, sleeping and politics. Whew!

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  van D. didn’t move, but stayed by her writing desk, looking for a handkerchief. “You’ve got to apologize first.” “All right, I hereby offer my apologies, but only because if I don’t, we’ll be here till midnight.” Mrs. van D. had to laugh in spite of herself. She got up and went toward the door, where she felt obliged to give us an explanation. (By us I mean Father, Mother and me; we were busy doing the dishes.) “He wasn’t like this at home,” she said. “I’d have belted him so hard he’d have gone flying down the stairs [!]. He’s never been so insolent. This isn’t the first time he’s deserved a good hiding. That’s what you get with a modern upbringing, modern children. I’d never have grabbed my mother like that. Did you treat your mother that way, Mr. Frank?” She was very upset, pacing back and forth, saying whatever came into her head, and she still hadn’t gone upstairs. Finally, at long last, she made her exit. Less than five minutes later she stormed back down the stairs, with her cheeks all puffed out, and flung her apron on a chair. When I asked if she was through, she replied that she was going downstairs. She tore down the stairs like a tornado, probably straight into the arms of her Putti. She didn’t come up again until eight, this time with her husband. Peter was dragged from the attic, given a merciless scolding and showered with abuse: ill-mannered brat, no-good bum, bad example, Anne this, Margot that, I couldn’t hear the rest. Everything seems to have calmed down again today! Yours, Anne M. Frank P.S. Tuesday and Wednesday evening our beloved Queen addressed the country. She’s taking a vacation so she’ll be in good health for her return to the Netherlands. She used words like “soon, when I’m back in Holland,” “a swift liberation,” “heroism” and “heavy burdens.” This was followed by a speech by Prime Minister Gerbrandy. He has such a squeaky little child’s voice that Mother instinctively said, “Oooh.” A clergyman, who must have borrowed his voice from Mr. Edel, concluded by asking God to take care of the Jews, all those in concentration camps and prisons and everyone working in Germany. THURSDAY, MAY 11, 1944 Dearest Kitty, Since I’ve left my entire “junk box” -- including my fountain pen -- upstairs and I’m not allowed to disturb the grown-ups during their nap time (until two-thirty), you’ll have to make do with a letter in pencil. I’m terribly busy at the moment, and strange as it may sound, I don’t have enough time to get through my pile of work. Shall I tell you briefly what I’ve got to do? Well then, before tomorrow I have to finish reading the first volume of a biography of Galileo Galilei, since it has to be returned to the library.

• From The Principles of Psychology (Volume 1 of 2) (1890)

  If we be joyous, we cannot keep thinking of those uncertainties and risks of failure which abound upon our path; if lugubrious, we cannot think of new triumphs, travels, loves, and joys; nor if vengeful, of our oppressor's community of nature with ourselves. The cooling advice which we get from others when the fever-fit is on us is the most jarring and exasperating thing in life. Reply we cannot, so we get angry; for by a sort of self-preserving instinct which our passion has, it feels that these chill objects, if they once but gain a lodgment, will work and work until they have frozen the very vital spark from out of all our mood and brought our airy castles in ruin to the ground. Such is the inevitable effect of reasonable ideas over others —if they can once get a quiet hearing; and passion's cue accordingly is always and everywhere to prevent their still small voice from being heard at all. "Let me not think of that! Don't speak to me of that!" This is the sudden cry of all those who in a passion perceive some sobering considerations about to check them in mid-career. "Hœc tibi erit janua leti," we feel. There is something so icy in this cold-water bath, something which seems so hostile to the movement of our life, so purely negative, in Reason, when she lays her corpse-like finger on our heart and says, "Halt! give up! leave off! go back! sit down!" that it is no wonder that to most men the steadying influence seems, for the time being, a very minister of death. The strong-willed man, however, is the man who hears the still small voice unflinchingly, and who, when the death-bringing consideration comes, looks at its face, consents to its presence, clings to it, affirms it, and holds it fast, in spite of the host of exciting mental images which rise in revolt against it and would expel it from the mind. Sustained in this way by a resolute effort of attention, the difficult object erelong begins to call up its own congerers and associates and ends by changing the disposition of the man's consciousness altogether. And with his consciousness, his action changes, for the new object, once stably in possession of the field of his thoughts, infallibly produces its own motor effects. The difficulty lies in the gaining possession of that field. Though the spontaneous drift of thought is all the other way, the attention must be kept strained on that one object until at last it grows, so as to maintain itself before the mind with ease. This strain of the attention is the fundamental act of will. And the will's work is in most cases practically ended when the bare presence to our thought of the naturally unwelcome object has been secured.

• From The Principles of Psychology (Volume 1 of 2) (1890)

  Effort of attention is thus the essential phenomenon of will.[509] Every reader must know by his own experience that this is so, for every reader must have felt some fiery passion's grasp. What constitutes the difficulty for a man laboring under an unwise passion of acting as if the passion were unwise? Certainly there is no physical difficulty. It is as easy physically to avoid a fight as to begin one, to pocket one's money as to squander it on one's cupidities, to walk away from as towards a coquette's door. The difficulty is mental; it is that of getting the idea of the wise action to stay before our mind at all. When any strong emotional state whatever is upon us the tendency is for no images but such as are congruous with it to come up. If others by chance offer themselves, they are instantly smothered and crowded out. If we be joyous, we cannot keep thinking of those uncertainties and risks of failure which abound upon our path; if lugubrious, we cannot think of new triumphs, travels, loves, and joys; nor if vengeful, of our oppressor's community of nature with ourselves. The cooling advice which we get from others when the fever-fit is on us is the most jarring and exasperating thing in life. Reply we cannot, so we get angry; for by a sort of self-preserving instinct which our passion has, it feels that these chill objects, if they once but gain a lodgment, will work and work until they have frozen the very vital spark from out of all our mood and brought our airy castles in ruin to the ground. Such is the inevitable effect of reasonable ideas over others —if they can once get a quiet hearing; and passion's cue accordingly is always and everywhere to prevent their still small voice from being heard at all. "Let me not think of that! Don't speak to me of that!" This is the sudden cry of all those who in a passion perceive some sobering considerations about to check them in mid-career. "Hœc tibi erit janua leti," we feel. There is something so icy in this cold-water bath, something which seems so hostile to the movement of our life, so purely negative, in Reason, when she lays her corpse-like finger on our heart and says, "Halt! give up! leave off! go back! sit down!" that it is no wonder that to most men the steadying influence seems, for the time being, a very minister of death.

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  Kugler’s office anymore on Saturday afternoons or Sundays, because the manager of Keg’s might hear him if he happens to be next door. Dussel promptly went and sat there anyway. Mr. van Daan was furious, and Father went downstairs to talk to Dussel, who came up with some flimsy excuse, but even Father didn’t fall for it this time. Now Father’s keep- ing his dealings with Dussel to a minimum because Dussel insulted him. Not one of us knows what he said, but it must have been pretty awful. And to think that that miserable man has his birthday next week. How can you celebrate your birthday when you’ve got the sulks, how can you accept gifts from people you won’t even talk to? Mr. Voskuijl is going downhill rapidly. For more than ten days he’s had a temperature of almost a hundred and four. The doctor said his condition is hopeless; they think the cancer has spread to his lungs. The poor man, we’d so like to help him, but only God can help him now! I’ve written an amusing story called “Blurry the Explorer,” which was a big hit with my three listeners. I still have a bad cold and have passed it on to Margot, as well as Mother and Father. If only Peter doesn’t get it. He insisted on a kiss, and called me his El Dorado. You can’t call a person that, silly boy! But he’s sweet anyway! Yours, Anne M. Frank THURSDAY, APRIL 27, 1944 Dearest Kitty, Mrs. van D. was in a bad mood this morning. All she did was complain, first about her cold, not being able to get cough drops and the agony of having to blow her nose all the time. Next she grumbled that the sun wasn’t shining, the invasion hadn’t started, we weren’t allowed to look out the windows, etc., etc. We couldn’t help but laugh at her, and it couldn’t have been that bad, since she soon joined in. Our recipe for potato kugel, modified due to lack of onions: Put peeled potatoes through a food mill and add a little dry government-issue flour and salt. Grease a mold or ovenproof dish with paraffin or stearin and bake for 21/2 hours. Serve with rotten strawberry compote. (Onions not available. Nor oil for mold or dough!) At the moment I’m reading Emperor Charles V, written by a professor at the University of Gottingen; he’s spent forty years working on this book. It took me five days to read fifty pages. I can’t do any more than that. Since the book has 598 pages, you can figure out just how long it’s going to take me. And that’s not even counting the second volume. But. . . very interesting! The things a schoolgirl has to do in the course of a single day! Take me, for example. First, I translated a passage on Nelson’s last battle from Dutch into English.

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  That evening, when I managed to get hold of Pim, I told him what had happened and we discussed what my next step should be, because I had no intention of giving up and preferred to deal with the matter myself. Pim gave me a rough idea of how to approach Dussel, but cautioned me to wait until the next day, since I was in such a flap. I ignored this last piece of advice and waited for Dussel after the dishes had been done. Pim was sitting next door and that had a calming effect. I began, “Mr. Dussel, you seem to believe further discussion of the matter is pointless, but I beg you to reconsider.” Dussel gave me his most charming smile and said, “I’m always prepared to discuss the matter, even though it’s already been settled.” I went on talking, despite Dussel’s repeated interruptions. When you first came here,” I said, “we agreed that the room was to be shared by the two of us. If we were to divide it fairly, you’d have the entire morning and I’d have the entire afternoon! I’m not asking for that much, but two afternoons a week does seem reasonable to me.” Dussel leapt out of his chair as if he’d sat on a pin. “You have no business talking about your rights to the room. Where am I supposed to go? Maybe I should ask Mr. Van Daan to build me a cubbyhole in the attic. You’re not the only one who can’t find a quiet place to work. You’re always looking for a fight. If your sister Margot, who has more right to work space than you do, had come to me with the same request, I’d never even have thought of refusing, but you. . .” And once again he brought up the business about the mythology and the knitting, and once again Anne was insulted. However, I showed no sign of it and let Dussel finish: “But no, it’s impossible to talk to you. You’re shamefully self-centered. No one else matters, as long as you get your way. I’ve never seen such a child. But after all is said and done, I’ll be obliged to let you have your way, since I don’t want people saying later on that Anne Frank failed her exams because Mr. Dussel refused to relinquish his table!” He went on and on until there was such a deluge of words I could hardly keep up. For one fleeting moment I thought, “Him and his lies. I’ll smack his ugly mug so hard he’ll go bouncing off the wall!” But the next moment I thought, “Calm down, he’s not worth getting so upset about!” At long last Mr. Dussel’ s fury was spent, and he left the room with an expression of triumph mixed with wrath, his coat pockets bulging with food.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  When we went to bed Rick wanted to have sex but I said “forget it” because I was still mad at him and didn’t feel sexy at all. But in the morning I felt different. I opened my eyes and there was Rick’s beautiful face, our noses almost touching. He gave me one of those big grins that made me fall in love with him and we embraced passionately. His penis felt wonderful as it pressed against my clit. What followed was surely one of our most amazing lovemaking sessions. I was totally excited. I couldn’t get enough of him. I remained in a steamy mood all day long and we had boisterous sex again that night. Maybe we should fight more often. Rick and Sheila each exhibit their individual anger styles. But because neither one attacks the integrity of the other—resisting any urge to go for the jugular—their basic trust and respect remain undiminished. Like many males, Rick (at least in Sheila’s eyes) is relatively quick to anger, seems less reluctant to go on the offensive, and shows little inclination to back down (until Sheila cries). Men tend to feel anger more easily than they do other strong emotions even when they are obviously more hurt, frightened, or frustrated than angry. Anger is more compatible with the demands of the male role: to deny or conquer fear and to take an aggressive, competitive stance in the world. Beginning early in life, most males are encouraged to develop antifear and antipain strategies, among the most potent of which is anger. Sheila, on the other hand, is reluctant to express anger, and when she does, a torrent of other feelings flood her awareness and soon she’s in tears—much to the consternation of Rick, who, like most men in his situation, has no idea what to do and probably feels manipulated, guilty, and robbed of his right to be angry. You can notice another common gender difference here as well: Rick is erotically energized by the fight and wants to make up by making love. He is aroused by the general excitation produced by his anger. Sheila, however, is turned off by anger and can’t feel sexy until she calms down and reconnects with her loving feelings toward Rick the next morning. By accentuating their differences, Rick and Sheila’s fight helps to restore their individuality and separateness, opening up a desire-enhancing gap between them. As they pull back from each other to stake out their positions, they regain the perspective necessary to see afresh what drew them to each other in the first place. Their disagreement reestablishes the otherness that is the basis of all attraction. ANGER AND THE FOUR CORNERSTONESAnger’s roles in erotic life are often subtle and easily missed. Consider again the cornerstones of eroticism, only this time pay special attention to the undercurrents of anger—some more visible than others—that often help to energize them.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  When we went to bed Rick wanted to have sex but I said “forget it” because I was still mad at him and didn’t feel sexy at all. But in the morning I felt different. I opened my eyes and there was Rick’s beautiful face, our noses almost touching. He gave me one of those big grins that made me fall in love with him and we embraced passionately. His penis felt wonderful as it pressed against my clit. What followed was surely one of our most amazing lovemaking sessions. I was totally excited. I couldn’t get enough of him. I remained in a steamy mood all day long and we had boisterous sex again that night. Maybe we should fight more often. Rick and Sheila each exhibit their individual anger styles. But because neither one attacks the integrity of the other—resisting any urge to go for the jugular—their basic trust and respect remain undiminished. Like many males, Rick (at least in Sheila’s eyes) is relatively quick to anger, seems less reluctant to go on the offensive, and shows little inclination to back down (until Sheila cries). Men tend to feel anger more easily than they do other strong emotions even when they are obviously more hurt, frightened, or frustrated than angry. Anger is more compatible with the demands of the male role: to deny or conquer fear and to take an aggressive, competitive stance in the world. Beginning early in life, most males are encouraged to develop antifear and antipain strategies, among the most potent of which is anger. Sheila, on the other hand, is reluctant to express anger, and when she does, a torrent of other feelings flood her awareness and soon she’s in tears—much to the consternation of Rick, who, like most men in his situation, has no idea what to do and probably feels manipulated, guilty, and robbed of his right to be angry. You can notice another common gender difference here as well: Rick is erotically energized by the fight and wants to make up by making love. He is aroused by the general excitation produced by his anger. Sheila, however, is turned off by anger and can’t feel sexy until she calms down and reconnects with her loving feelings toward Rick the next morning. By accentuating their differences, Rick and Sheila’s fight helps to restore their individuality and separateness, opening up a desire-enhancing gap between them. As they pull back from each other to stake out their positions, they regain the perspective necessary to see afresh what drew them to each other in the first place. Their disagreement reestablishes the otherness that is the basis of all attraction. ANGER AND THE FOUR CORNERSTONESAnger’s roles in erotic life are often subtle and easily missed. Consider again the cornerstones of eroticism, only this time pay special attention to the undercurrents of anger—some more visible than others—that often help to energize them.

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  SUNDAY, JANUARY 2, 1944 Dearest Kitty, This morning, when I had nothing to do, I leafed through the pages of my diary and came across so many letters dealing with the subject of “Mother” in such strong terms that I was shocked. I said to myself, “Anne, is that really you talking about hate? Oh, Anne, how could you?” I continued to sit with the open book in my hand and wonder why I was filled with so much anger and hate that I had to confide it all to you. I tried to understand the Anne of last year and make apologies for her, because as long as I leave you with these accusations and don’t attempt to explain what prompted them, my conscience won’t be clear. I was suffering then (and still do) from moods that kept my head under water (figuratively speaking) and allowed me to see things only from my own perspective, without calmly considering what the others -- those whom I, with my mercurial temperament, had hurt or offended -- had said, and then acting as they would have done. I hid inside myself, thought of no one but myself and calmly wrote down all my joy, sarcasm and sorrow in my diary. Because this diary has become a kind of memory book, it means a great deal to me, but I could easily write “over and done with” on many of its pages. I was furious at Mother (and still am a lot of the time). It’s true, she didn’t understand me, but I didn’t understand her either. Because she loved me, she was tender and affectionate, but because of the difficult situations I put her in, and the sad circumstances in which she found herself, she was nervous and irritable, so I can understand why she was often short with me. I was offended, took it far too much to heart and was insolent and beastly to her, which, in turn, made her unhappy. We were caught in a vicious circle of unpleasantness and sorrow. Not a very happy period for either of us, but at least it’s coming to an end. I didn’t want to see what was going on, and I felt very sorry for myself, but that’s understandable too.

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  Father said that he and Dussel had dealt with the subject once before, at which time he’d professed to agree with Dussel because he didn’t want to contradict the elder in front of the younger, but that, even then, he hadn’t thought it was fair. Dussel felt I had no right to talk as if he were an intruder laying claim to everything in sight. But Father protested strongly, since he himself had heard me say nothing of the kind. And so the conversation went back and forth, with Father defending my “selfishness” and my “busywork” and Dussel grumbling the whole time. Dussel finally had to give in, and I was granted the opportunity to work without interruption two afternoons a week. Dussel looked very sullen, didn’t speak to me for two days and made sure he occupied the table from five to five-thirty -- all very childish, of course. Anyone who’s so petty and pedantic at the age of fifty-four was born that way and is never going to change. FRIDAY, JULY 16, 1943 Dearest Kitty, There’s been another break-in, but this time a real one! Peter went down to the warehouse this morning at seven, as usual, and noticed at once that both the warehouse door and the street door were open. He immediately reported this to Pim, who went to the private office, tuned the radio to a German station and locked the door. Then they both went back upstairs. In such cases our orders are not to wash ourselves or run any water, to be quiet, to be dressed by eight and not to go to the bathroom,” and as usual we followed these to the letter. We were all glad we’d slept so well and hadn’t heard anything. For a while we were indignant because no one from the office came upstairs the entire morning; Mr. Kleiman left us on tenterhooks until eleven-thirty. He told that the burglars had forced the outside door and the warehouse door with a crowbar, but when they didn’t find anything worth stealing, they tried their luck on the next floor. They stole two cashboxes containing 40 guilders, blank checkbooks and, worst of all, coupons for 330 pounds of sugar, our entire allotment. It won’t be easy to wangle new ones. Mr. Kugler thinks this burglar belongs to the same gang as the one who made an unsuccessful attempt six weeks ago to open all three doors (the warehouse door

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  Anger, including hostility, contempt, hatred, resentment, and revenge. The first two sets of emotions—exuberance and satisfaction—are so universally rated as highly important aspects of peak arousal that we must conclude that peak turn-ons, by definition, generate these unabashedly positive feelings. However, as crucial as these terrific feelings are to sexual enjoyment, it’s not quite accurate to think of them as emotional aphrodisiacs because they do not produce or intensify arousal so much as they follow from it. Therefore, I call exuberance and satisfaction the response emotions because they are the rewards of high arousal, not the cause. In this chapter our focus is on the other four sets of emotions—closeness, anxiety, guilt, and anger—all of which have unmistakable aphrodisiac powers. As you consider the role of emotion in your own peak turn-ons, you probably won’t have any trouble identifying the presence of the “positive” ones. After all, emotions such as love, tenderness, and affection are most likely to fit your ideals about the way sex should be. “Negative” emotions such as anxiety, guilt, and anger probably do not spring to mind nearly so readily when you contemplate peak turn-ons. Yet on certain occasions negative feelings energize your eroticism at least as much as love and affection—although you may not always recognize them. I call these feelings the unexpected aphrodisiacs. Just as surely as anxiety, guilt, or anger can disrupt sexual enjoyment, they can also enhance it. Thus they are the paradoxical emotions. Look closely at your peak experiences and you’ll discover that one or more unexpected aphrodisiacs contributed to your excitation, most likely in a subtle fashion that easily can be ignored. If you do become aware that negative emotions sometimes add dynamism and drama to your turn-ons, you may understandably be surprised or disturbed. Rest assured, however, that any risks you take in examining the place of the unexpected aphrodisiacs in your erotic life will be richly rewarded. The more you’re able to recognize the unexpected aphrodisiacs, the greater will be your comfort with the full range of emotions associated with passionate sex. In the realm of the erotic, ail your emotions are part of a larger whole in which the concepts of “positive” and “negative” are often meaningless. As we explore closeness, anxiety, guilt, and anger you will see that feelings are fluid rather than static. All emotions—whether they initially appear positive or negative—can be transformed from one into another. Even anger, usually considered the very antithesis of caring and tenderness, can be metamorphosed by your erotic mind into appreciation and love.

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  And I hope I’m doing enough of that! Anne THURSDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1943 Dearest Kitty, Since the last raging quarrels, things have settled down here, not only between ourselves, Dussel and “upstairs,” but also between Mr. and Mrs. van D. Nevertheless, a few dark thunderclouds are heading this way, and all because of . . . food. Mrs. van D. came up with the ridiculous idea of frying fewer potatoes in the morning and saving them for later in the day. Mother and Dussel and the rest of us didn’t agree with her, so now we’re dividing up the potatoes as well. It seems the fats and oils aren’t being doled out fairly, and Mother’s going to have to put a stop to it. I’ll let you know if there are any interesting developments. For the last few months now we’ve been splitting up the meat (theirs with fat, ours without), the soup (they eat it, we don’t), the potatoes (theirs peeled, ours not), the extras and now the fried potatoes too. If only we could split up completely! Yours, Anne P.S. Bep had a picture postcard of the entire Royal Family copied for me. Juliana looks very young, and so does the Queen. The three little girls are adorable. It was incredibly nice of Bep, don’t you think? SUNDAY, JANUARY 2, 1944 Dearest Kitty, This morning, when I had nothing to do, I leafed through the pages of my diary and came across so many letters dealing with the subject of “Mother” in such strong terms that I was shocked. I said to myself, “Anne, is that really you talking about hate? Oh, Anne, how could you?” I continued to sit with the open book in my hand and wonder why I was filled with so much anger and hate that I had to confide it all to you. I tried to understand the Anne of last year and make apologies for her, because as long as I leave you with these accusations and don’t attempt to explain what prompted them, my conscience won’t be clear. I was suffering then (and still do) from moods that kept my head under water (figuratively speaking) and allowed me to see things only from my own perspective, without calmly considering what the others -- those whom I, with my mercurial temperament, had hurt or offended -- had said, and then acting as they would have done. I hid inside myself, thought of no one but myself and calmly wrote down all my joy, sarcasm and sorrow in my diary. Because this diary has become a kind of memory book, it means a great deal to me, but I could easily write “over and done with” on many of its pages. I was furious at Mother (and still am a lot of the time). It’s true, she didn’t understand me, but I didn’t understand her either.

• From The Principles of Psychology (Volume 1 of 2) (1890)

  The creatures tempt their hands to a fascinating occupation, to which they have to yield. It is with them as with the 'boy-fiend' Jesse Pomeroy, who cut a little girl's throat, 'just to see how she'd act.' The normal provocatives of the impulse are all living beasts, great and small, toward which a contrary habit has not been formed—all human beings in whom we perceive a certain intent towards us, and a large number of human beings who offend us peremptorily, either by their look, or gait, or by some circumstance in their lives which we dislike. Inhibited by sympathy, and by reflection calling up impulses of an opposite kind, civilized men lose the habit of acting out their pugnacious instincts in a perfectly natural way, and a passing feeling of anger, with its comparatively feint bodily expressions, may be the limit of their physical combativeness. Such a feeling as this may, however, be aroused by a wide range of objects. Inanimate things, combinations of color and sound, bad bills of fare, may in persons who combine fastidious taste with an irascible temperament produce real ebullitions of rage. Though the female sex is often said to have less pugnacity than the male, the difference seems connected more with the extent of the motor consequences of the impulse than with its frequency. Women take offence and get angry, if anything, more easily than men, but their anger is inhibited by fear and other principles of their nature from expressing itself in blows. The hunting-instinct proper seems to be decidedly weaker in them than in men. The latter instinct is easily restricted by habit to certain objects, which become legitimate 'game,' while other things are spared. If the hunting-instinct be not exercised at all, it may even entirely die out, and a man may enjoy letting a wild creature live, even though he might easily kill it. Such a type is now becoming frequent; but there is no doubt that in the eyes of a child of nature such a, personage would seem a sort of moral monster. Fear is a reaction aroused by the same objects that arouse ferocity. The antagonism of the two is an interesting study in instinctive dynamics. We both fear, and wish to kill, anything that may kill us; and the question which of the two impulses we shall follow is usually decided by some one of those collateral circumstances of the particular case, to be moved by which is the mark of superior mental natures. Of course this introduces uncertainty into the reaction; but it is an uncertainty found in the higher brutes as well as in men, and ought not to be taken as proof that we are less instinctive than they.

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  That’s another story!” Can you imagine how I felt? I astonished myself by calmly replying, “You may think I haven’t been raised properly, but many people would disagree!” They apparently believe that good child-rearing includes trying to pit me against my parents, since that’s all they ever do. And not telling a girl my age about grown-up subjects is fine. We can all see what happens when. people are raised that way. At that moment I could have slapped them both for poking fun at me. I was beside myself with rage, and if I only knew how much longer we had to put up with each other’s company, I’d start counting the days. Mrs. van Daan’s a fine one to talk! She sets an example all right -- a bad one! She’s known to be exceedingly pushy, egotistical, cunning, calculating and perpetually dissatisfied. Add to that, vanity and coquettishness and there’s no question about it: she’s a thoroughly despicable person. I could write an entire book about Madame van Daan, and who knows, maybe someday I will. Anyone can put on a charming exterior when they want to. Mrs. van D. is friendly to strangers, especially men, so it’s easy to make a mistake when you first get to know her. Mother thinks that Mrs. van D. is too stupid for words, Margot that she’s too unimportant, Pim that she’s too ugly (literally and figuratively!), and after long observation (I’m never prejudiced at the beginning), I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s all three of the above, and lots more besides. She has so many bad traits, why should I single out just one of them? Yours, Anne P.S. Will the reader please take into consideration that this story was written before the writer’s fury had cooled? TUESDAY, AUGUST 3, 1943 Dearest Kitty, Things are going well on the political front. Italy has banned the Fascist Party. The people are fighting the Fascists in many places -- even the army has joined the fight. How can a country like that continue to wage war against England? Our beautiful radio was taken away last week. Dussel was very angry at Mr. Kugler for turning it in on the appointed day. Dussel is slipping lower and lower in my estimation, and he’s already below zero. hatever he says about politics, history, geography or ything else is so ridiculous that I hardly dare repeat it: Hitler will fade from history; the harbor in Rotterdam is bigger than the one in Hamburg; the English are idiots for not taking the opportunity to bomb Italy to smithereens; etc., etc. We just had a third air raid. I decided to grit my teeth and practice being courageous. Mrs. van Daan, the one who always said “Let them fall” and “Better to end with a bang than not to end at all,” is the most cowardly one among us. She was shaking like a leaf this morning and even burst into tears.