The rage had gone from him and she was afraid that it was all too final.

His rage had gone, the smile he turned on her was very gentle.

The dark rage of his own memories was gone, replaced by lust and love.

His rage against the obstacles of the long journey had gone icy cold.

All his force and rage went behind the blow.

Her rage at the unfairness of things went beyond reason.

Lucillia went on crying, but the rage had gone out of her now.

The rage had gone from his face, replaced by woodenness.

The current rage for animal prints has gone to one man's head.

But right now, I want the rage to go away.