- Frenzied, out of control
- One of the ancient Norse warriors legendary for working themselves into a frenzy before a battle and fighting with reckless savagery and insane fury
Derived forms: berserks
- Kresley Cole – Nix to Declan:Begin transcript—Testing. Hello, hellooo, anybody out there? Check, check, one, two. Soft pee. Puh, puh. Resonance! Soft pee. Alpha bravo disco tango duck.This is Nix! I’m the Ever-Knowing One, a goddess incandescent, incomparable, and irresistible. But enough about what you think of me. It’s a beautiful day in New Orleans. The wind is out of the east at a steady five knots and clouds look like rabbits. But enough about what you think of me!Now, down to business—Squirrel!Where was I? [Long pause] Why am I in Regin’s car? Bertil, you crawl right back out of that bong this minute!Oh, I remember! I am hereby laying down this track for Magister Declan Chase. If you are a mortal of the recorder peon class, know that Dekko and I go way back, and he’ll go berserk (snicker snicker) if he doesn’t receive this transmittal. Chase, riddle me this: what’s beautiful but monstrous, long of tooth but sharp of tooth and soft of mind, and can never ever tell a lie?That’s right. The Enemy of Old can be very useful to you. So use him already.P.S. Your middle name’s about to be spelled regret.And with that, I must bid you adieu. Don’t worry, we’ll catch up very soon. Who’s mummy’s wittle echo locator? That’s right—you are!—End transcript
- Kiersten White – Do you have a driver’s license?”He laughed. “That’s important?””Oh yeah! I’d kill for a driver’s license! Hey, maybe that’s what the poem means! I’m going to go berserk and start attacking people because they won’t let me drive.” “Could be, you never know. But yes, I have a driver’s license.”I leaned back against the wall, sighing. “Man, that must be so cool.””It ranks right up there with lockers. In fact, sometimes I put my drivers license inside my locker, and it’s so cool I worry that the whole thing might explode with the sheer coolness of it all.
- Jeremy Clarkson – Boredom forces you to ring people you haven’t seen for eighteen years and halfway through the conversation you remember why you left it so long. Boredom means you start to read not only mail-order catalogues but also the advertising inserts that fall on the floor. Boredom gives you half a mind to get a gun and go berserk in the local shopping centre, and you know where this is going. Eventually, boredom means you will take up golf.
- Rick Riordan – I imagined having that bronzed dragon in our fight against the Titan lord Kronos. His monsters would think twice about attacking camp if they have to face that thing. On the other hand, if the dragon decided to go berserk again and attack the campers-that would pretty much stink.
- Diana Gabaldon – I was crying and laughing, snuffing tears and blood, bumping at him with my bound hands, trying awkwardly to thrust them at him so that he could cut the rope. He quit grappling, and clutched me so hard against him that I yelped in pain as my face was pressed against his plaid. He was saying something else, urgently, but I couldn’t manage to translate it. Energy pulsed through him, hot and violent, like the current in a live wire, and I vaguely realized that he was still almost berserk; he had no English.
- Kylie Scott – The sight of his bare chest brought me to the dribble point. The jeans pushed me right over. No one wore jeans like David. And having caught a glimpse of him without them only made it worse. My imagination went into some sort of sexual berserker rage. The pictures that filled my head. I have no idea where they all came from. The images were surprisingly raw and detailed. I was quite certain I wasn’t flexible enough to achieve some of them.
- Terry Pratchett – And when in doubt, take all your clothes off,’ said Caleb. ‘What for?’ ‘Sign of a good berserk, taking all your clothes off. Frightens the hell out of the enemy. If anyone starts laughing, stab ’em one.
- John Fuller – The things about you I appreciate May seem indelicate:I’d like to find you in the shower tnd chase the soap for half an hour.I’d like to have you in my power and see your eyes dilate.I’d like to have your back to scour and other parts to lubricate.Sometimes I feel it is my fate to chase you screaming up a tower or make you cower by asking you to differentiate Nietzsche from Schopenhauer.I’d like successfully to guess your weight and win you at a fête. I’d like to offer you a flower.I like the hair upon your shoulders,Falling like water over boulders.I like the shoulders too: they are essential.Your collar-bones have great potential(I’d like your particulars in folders Marked Confidential).I like your cheeks, I like your nose,I like the way your lips disclose the neat arrangement of your teeth(Half above and half beneath)In rows.I like your eyes, I like their fringes.The way they focus on me gives me twinges.Your upper arms drive me berserk.I like the way your elbows work.On hinges I like your wrists, I like your glands,I like the fingers on your hands.I’d like to teach them how to count,And certain things we might exchange,Something familiar for something strange.I’d like to give you just the right amount and get some change.I like it when you tilt your cheek up.I like the way you not and hold a teacup.I like your legs when you unwind them.Even in trousers I don’t mind them.I like each softly-moulded kneecap.I like the little crease behind them.I’d always know, without a recap,Where to find them.I like the sculpture of your ears.I like the way your profile disappears whenever you decide to turn and face me.I’d like to cross two hemispheres and have you chase me.I’d like to smuggle you across frontiers or sail with you at night into Tangiers.I’d like you to embrace me.I’d like to see you ironing your skirt and cancelling other dates.I’d like to button up your shirt.I like the way your chest inflates.I’d like to soothe you when you’re hurt or frightened senseless by invertebrates.I’d like you even if you were malign and had a yen for sudden homicide.I’d let you put insecticide into my wine.I’d even like you if you were Bride Of Frankenstein or something ghoulish out of Mamoulian’s Jekyll and Hyde.I’d even like you as my Julian or Norwich or Cathleen ni Houlihan. How melodramatic If you were something muttering in attics Like Mrs Rochester or a student of Boolean Mathematics.You are the end of self-abuse.You are the eternal feminine.I’d like to find a good excuse to call on you and find you in.I’d like to put my hand beneath your chin,And see you grin.I’d like to taste your Charlotte Russe, I’d like to feel my lips upon your skin I’d like to make you reproduce.I’d like you in my confidence.I’d like to be your second look.I’d like to let you try the French Defence and mate you with my rook.I’d like to be your preference and hence I’d like to be around when you unhook.I’d like to be your only audience,The final name in your appointment book,Your future tense.
- Dean Koontz – Winny didn’t know what he would do without his books, except probably go berserk and start killing people and making ashtrays out of their skulls even though he didn’t smoke and never would.
- Hunter S. Thompson – The strategy worked like a charm, and in 1980 Jimmy Carter was swept away like offal by the “Reagan Revolution,” which ushered in eight years of berserk looting of the federal treasury and the economic crippling of the middle class. That was the eighties, folks. That was the feeding frenzy of the New Rich, who found themselves wallowing in excess profits as their maximum income tax rate got chopped down to 31 percent and who were welcomed like brothers in the White House at all hours of the day or night.
- I’ve had a lot of practice. The Pack contains thirty-two species in seven tribes, each with their own hang-up. Jackals and coyotes pick fights with wolves, because they have an inferiority complex and think they’ve got something to prove.Wolves believe themselves to be superior, marry the wrong people, and then refuse to divorce them because they cling to their ‘mating for life’ idiocy. Hyenas listen to nobody, screw everything, and break out in berserk rages at some perceived slight against one of their own. Cats randomly refuse to follow orders to prove they can. That’s my life. I’ve been at this for fifteen years now. You’re easy by comparison.
- Christ, don’t go to the Haunted Houses with Ally and Indy. A few years ago, Indy went berserk and broke through the hay bales they had set up to make the haunted trail and headed into the cornfields. All the employees chased after her but since they were dressed like monsters, Indy lost her mind. They had to call the cops to settle her down.” I lost him at “cornfields”. “Cornfields?” I whispered. “Yeah.” “They have a haunted trail through cornfields?” “Yeah, up in Thornton. Best Haunted House in Denver. Indy and Ally go every year. Why?” “Cornfields freak me out,” I admitted. Hank was silent. Then, he said, “You’re from Indiana. How in the fuck can cornfields freak you out?” “Cornfields don’t freak me out. Cornfields at night freak me out. Haunted cornfields at night freak me out.” “You been to many haunted cornfields?” “Dude,” I said low. “All cornfields are haunted. Trust me. I know. They whisper to you.
- Annabelle, what happened to you?” Lillian asked the next morning. “You look dreadful. Why aren’t you wearing your riding habit? I thought you were going to try out the jumping course this morning. And why did you disappear so suddenly last night? It’s not like you to simply vanish without saying—”“I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Annabelle said testily, folding her fingers around the delicate bowl of a porcelain teacup. Looking pale and exhausted, her blue eyes ringed with dark shadows, she swallowed a mouthful of heavily sweetened tea before continuing. “It was that blasted perfume of yours—as soon as he caught one whiff of it, he went berserk.”Shocked, Lillian tried to take in the information, her stomach plummeting. “It had an effect on Westcliff, then?” she managed to ask.“Good Lord, not Lord Westcliff.” Annabelle rubbed her weary eyes. “He couldn’t have cared less what I smelled like. It was my husband who went completely mad. After he caught the scent of that stuff, he dragged me up to our room and well, suffice it to say, Mr. Hunt kept me awake all night. All night ,” she repeated in sullen emphasis, and drank deeply of the tea.“Doing what?” Daisy asked blankly.Lillian, who was feeling a rush of relief that Lord Westcliff had not been attracted to Annabelle while she was wearing the perfume, gave her younger sister a derisive glance. “What do you think they were doing? Playing a few hands of Find-the-Lady?
- There is a theory that when a planet, like our earth for example, has manifested every form of life, when it has fulfilled itself to the point of exhaustion, it crumbles to bits and is dispersed like star dust throughout the universe. It does not roll on like a dead moon, but explodes, and in the space of a few minutes, there is not a trace of it visible in the heavens. In marine life we have a similar effect. it is called implosion. When an amphibian accustomed to the black depths rises above a certain level, when the pressure to which it adapts itself is lifted, the body bursts inwardly. Are we not familiar with this spectacle in the human being also? The norsemen who went berserk, the malay who runs a muck—are these not examples of implosion and explosion? When the cup is full it runs over. but when the cup and that which it contains are one substance, what then? There are moments when the elixir of life rises to such over brimming splendor that the soul spills over. In the seraphic smile of the madonnas the soul is seen to flood the psyche. The moon of the face becomes full; the equation is perfect. A minute, a half minute, a second later, the miracle has passed. something intangible, something inexplicable, was given out—and received. In the life of a human being it may happen that the moon never comes to the full. In the life of some human beings it would seem, indeed, that the only mysterious phenomenon observable is that of perpetual eclipse. In the case of those afflicted with genius, whatever the form it may take, we are almost frightened to observe that there is nothing but a continuous waxing and waning of the moon. Rarer still are the anomalous ones who, having come to the full, are so terrified by the wonder of it that they spend the rest of their lives endeavoring to stifle that which gave them birth and being. The war of the mind is the story of the soul-split. When the moon was at full there were those who could not accept the dim death of diminution; they tried to hang full-blown in the zenith of their own heaven. They tried to arrest the action of the law which was manifesting itself through them, through their own birth and death, in fulfillment and transfiguration. Caught between the tides they were sundered; the soul departed the body, leaving the simulacrum of a divided self to fight it out in the mind. Blasted by their own radiance they live forever the futile quest of beauty, truth and harmony. Depossessed of their own effulgence they seek to possess the soul and spirit of those to whom they are attracted. They catch every beam of light; they reflect with every facet of their hungry being. instantly illumined, When the light is directed towards them, they are also speedily extinguished. The more intense the light which is cast upon them the more dazzling—and blinding—they appear. Especially dangerous are they to the radiant ones; it is always towards these bright and inexhaustible luminaries that they are most passionately drawn.
- He was used to being playful with women, teasing while keeping ultimate control. With Luna, he felt like a berserk marauder. He couldn’t even spell control, much less utilize it.
- In politics, Bugs Bunny always beats Daffy Duck. Daffy’s always going berserk, jumping up and down, yelling. Bugs’s got that sly smile, like he always knows what’s up, like nothing can ruffle him.
- Are ye all right, man?” Ian asked, in the same tone of mild concern he’d heard his da use now and then on his mam or Uncle Jamie. Evidently it was in fact the right tone to take with a Fraser about to go berserk, for William breathed like a grampus for a moment or two, then got himself under control.
- Anytime I hear about another one of us gone berserk, shooting up his ex’s office or drowning her kids to free herself up for her Internet boyfriend, the question I always ask is not, like every other tongue-clucking pundit in the country, how could this have happened? but why doesn’t this happen every day?
- Other folk thought the Rage was simple blood lust, a berserk savagery that neither knew nor cared what its target was, and so it was when it struck without warning. But when a hradani gave himself to it knowingly, it was as cold as it was hot, as rational as it was lethal. To embrace the Rage was to embrace a splendor, a glory, a denial of all restraint but not of reason. It was pure, elemental purpose, unencumbered by compassion or horror or pity, yet it was far more than mere frenzy.
- In my unpleasant experience, unarmed against a knife, you’ve basically got four options. Your best bet is to run like hell, if you can. Next best is to do something immediately that prevents the attack from getting started. Third is to create distance so you can deploy a longer-range weapon. Fourth is to go berserk and hope not to get fatally cut going through and over your attacker. I don’t care how much training you’ve had, these are your only realistic options, and none of them is particularly good except maybe the first. Unarmed techniques against the knife are a crapshoot, and against a determined attacker with a live blade, they offer piss-poor odds.
- Last Flowers appliances have gone berserk I cannot keep up treading on people’s toes snot-nosed little punk and I can’t face the evening straight you can offer me escape houses move and houses speak if you take me then you’ll get relief. And if I’m gonna talk I just wanna talk please don’t interrupt just sit back and listen cause I can’t face the evening straight and you can offer me escape houses move and houses speak if you take me then you’ll get relief. It’s too much too bright too powerful.
- Just because you’re, like, super powerful doesn’t mean people shouldn’t defend you.” But he was looking at her like she was a cute harmless little bunny that was obviously on drugs. She sighed. “You’re still not fearing my mighty wrath.” “I’m trying.” “One day I will unleash it and you will flee in terror. Why are you laughing? It’s only the truth. A sphinx in full-on berserker-mode can wreak major destruction and instill fear into the hearts of all who stop laughing!
- In answer, the news of the Gospel is that extraordinary things happen. Lear goes berserk on a heath but comes out of it for a few brief hours every inch a king. Zaccheus climbs up a sycamore tree a crook and climbs down a saint. Paul sets out a hatchet man for the Pharisees and comes back a fool for Christ.
- How do you? What is it you’re doing?” he said to Vardy as the man took a breath, mid-insight. What do you call that? Billy thought. That reconstitutitive intelligence, berserker meme-splicing, seeing in nothings first patterns, then correspondence, then causality and dissident sense.Vardy even smiled. “Paranoid,” he said. “Theology.
- Dude, you didn’t fugue, you were just berserk. That’s like comparing a lunatic to a pissed guy with goals.
- The daughter who transports him out of the longed-for American pastoral and into everything that is its antithesis and its enemy, into the fury, the violence, and the desperation of the counterpastoral—into the indigenous American berserk.
- wherever Haley’s voice rang out with “One, two, three o’clock, four o’clock RAHK” the gritty drama on the screen was totally eclipsed by mayhem among the audience. Boys and girls alike went literally berserk, shrieking like banshees, tearing at the fabric of their seats, lurching out to dance in the aisles or engage in mass brawls that required dozens of police to contain them.
- But a society in which pluralism is not undergirded by some shared values and held together by some measure of mutual trust simply cannot survive. Pluralism that reflects no commitments whatever to the common good is pluralism gone berserk. Leaders unwilling to seek mutually workable arrangements within systems to their own are not surviving the long-term interest of their constituents
- George W. Bush gave this response to the question of ‘Why do they hate us?’: ‘They hate our freedoms: our freedom of religion, our freedom of speech, our freedom to vote’ If these analyses are correct, it would appear that Bin Laden and his gang in Tora Bora had simply stumbled onto a copy of the Bill of Rights and gone berserk. We are not hated for who we are or what we believe; we are hated for what we do. It is not our principles that are despised; it is our policies.
- If we were all minimalists instead of conspicuous consumers, there would be less demand on the world’s resources and we’d have a smaller, less berserk economy. We’d be less likely to harm the only planet we’ll ever have, and the super-rich would have fewer ways to exploit us.
- He went absolutely berserk.
- If you want to win anything – a race, yourself, your life – you have to go a little berserk.
- If you want to win a race you have to go a little berserk.
- A critically wounded elephant went berserk and attacked every living thing in his path.
- The battle robot JA went berserk.
- Mary went berserk.
- Tom went berserk.
- A marketing hoax of a “fired employee” going berserk with a company’s Twitter account goes viral – but how effective is it when advertising plays with people’s trust?
- Leaf blowers, trucks or noisy neighbors driving you berserk?
- The Dynasty Warriors themed Berserk game for PS4 is coming Westward this February under the new title of Berserk and the Band of the Hawk.