Your worst enemy, he reflected, was your own nervous system. At any moment the tension inside you was liable to translate itself into some visible symptom... He had written it down at last, but it made no difference. The therapy had not worked. The urge to shout filthy words at the top of his voice was as strong as ever.
Part 1, Chapter 6, 1984, (published 1949).
Does anybody else feel the need to shout? Maybe it's shouting for shouting's sake, but I could certainly do some shouting. !@#$$%^&*()(*&^%$#@! I don't even know what it was for.