"Ire" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... that her multitudinous store— The garnered fruit of measureless desire— Sank in the maelstrom of abysmal fire, To be of man beheld on earth no more? Her loyal children, cheery to the core. Quailed not, nor blenched, while she, above the ire Of elemental ragings, dared aspire On victory's wings resplendently to soar. What matters all the losses of the years, Since she can count the subjects as her own That share her fortunes under every fate; Who weave their brightest tissues ...
— The California Birthday Book • Various
... to an ire that stemmed the flow of tears which had threatened to overflow her blue eyes. Then, content with his tactics, he went upstairs for his ...
— Terry - A Tale of the Hill People • Charles Goff Thomson
... the lowly earth, Echo thy being with reflected birth— Thee will I sing, thy strength for aye resound: The universe, that rolls this globe around, Moves wheresoe'er thy plastic influence guides, And, ductile, owns the god whose arm presides. The lightnings are thy ministers of ire; The double-forked and ever-living fire; In thy unconquerable hands they glow, And at the flash all nature quakes below. Thus, thunder-armed, thou dost creation draw To one immense, inevitable law: And, with the various mass of breathing souls, Thy power is mingled, and thy spirit rolls. ...
— Christianity and Greek Philosophy • Benjamin Franklin Cocker
... 'Twas here I bowed my head Of old, and chafed not at the bondman's bread, Though born in heaven. Aye, Zeus to death had hurled My son, Asclepios, Healer of the World, Piercing with fire his heart; and in mine ire I slew his Cyclop churls, who forged the fire. Whereat Zeus cast me forth to bear the yoke Of service to a mortal. To this folk I came, and watched a stranger's herd for pay, And all his house I have prospered to this day. For innocent was the Lord I chanced ...
— Alcestis • Euripides
... to grass, Slain by the bullets of the tenant class! Pray, good agrarians, what wrong requires Such foul redress? Between you and the squires All Ireland's parted with an even hand— For you have all the ire, ...
— Shapes of Clay • Ambrose Bierce
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