Quotes About Victory

Scourge is dead!

Tigerclaw reared up again with a furious hisss. Fireheart was bracing himself for Tigerclaw's blow when he saw a blaze of grey. A broad pair of houlders flashed past, and Fireheart recognised a warrior he had fought alongside many times before. Graystripe! The grey warrior lunged at Tigerclaw's exposed belly knocking him backward.

Peak added enthusiastically.

but I managed to take Oakheart's life while he was still gloating over his victory.

We've got you now, kittypet!

Without hesitation Breezepelt darted in among them and slashed his claws across the nearest stoat's face before darting out again and running on. "Take that, mange-pelt!" he yowled. The injured stoat let out a screech of pain, and a furious chittering rose from its denmates.

In a game of poker, I can put the players' souls in my pocket.

God is himself a vast medicine for man. It is the heart of God that carries restoration, inspiration, aspiration, and final victory.

Of all battles, there are none like the unrecorded battles of the soul.

It is defeat that turns bone to flint, gristle to muscle, and makes men invincible.

Men's graces must get the better of their faults as a farmer's crops do of the weeds--by growth. When the corn is low, the farmer uses the plough to root up the weeds; but when it is high, and shakes its palm-like leaves in the wind, he says, "Let the corn take care of them," for the dense shadow of growing corn is as fatal to weeds as the edge of the sickle.

Next to victory, there is nothing so sweet as defeat, if only the right adversary overcomes you.

Death, the final, triumphant lover.

You have to fight for your life. That's the chief condition on which you hold it.

With a grunt he levered himself to his feet, causing the chair to bang against the bookcase behind him and set the various objet d'bollocks rattling.

Mr Punch was running for his afterlife, but I was gaining.

Richmond won on points, but only because one of them had a flask full of coffee.

Shoot a lower score than everybody else

"I play with friends, but we don't play friendly games.

I play golf with friends sometimes, but there are never friendly games

As it was, D-Day was a damn close-run thing and a brutal struggle: Allied casualty rates averaged 6,674 a day for the seventy-seven days of the Normandy campaign. Those numbers would have been far higher, had it not been for a small and most peculiar band of men and women fighting a secret battle.

With victory, the denizens of Room 13 emerged, blinking, into the light. An anonymous poet in Section 17M marked the occasion with a verse entitled "De Profundibus." In the depths of the fusty dungeons, In the bowels of NID Where wild surmise or blatant lies Are digested for those at sea, The in-trays are all empty, The dreary toil is done, And with mental daze and bleary gaze The Troglodytes see the sun.

Some creatures have a low survival rate, and so the world produces far too many of them, and as they fight among each other to live they grow more savage, more base, more dull, and the winners, the survivors, are distinctly unappealing little beings.

It is defeat that lives on and takes the years to smother.