Quotes About Bravery

was foully aware of the symptoms of terror. He could feel his heart thumping, sweat was chill on his skin, and a muscle in his left thigh was twitching. His throat was parched, his belly felt hollow, and he wanted to vomit. He tried to smile, and sought for some casual words that would demonstrate his lack of fear, but he could think of nothing.

Derfel] La mia spada era coperta di sangue, avevo la mano destra appiccicosa e la manica della cotta tutta macchiata, ma nemmeno una goccia di quel sangue era mia.

Bravery is overcoming fear," I said, "and I don't know how you do that. Duty helps a little, experience, of course, and not letting down your comrades helps a lot, but really bravery is a kind of madness.

An English man-at-arms had his helmet split open and his skull with it, so that he rode wavering from the fight, blood pouring down his mail coat. His horse stopped a few paces from the turmoil and the man-at-arms slowly, so slowly, bent forward and then slumped down from his saddle. One foot was trapped in a stirrup as he died but his horse did not seem to notice. It just went on cropping the grass.

I kicked back my heels, but all I achieved was to ride out of the panicked mass into the path of the Danes, and all around me men were screaming and the Danish axes and swords were chopping and swinging. The grim work, the blood feast, the song of the blade, they call it.

Masques are mere pious recitals, he said scathingly, devised to make the audience feel inspired with unending speeches about chastity, nobility, bravery, and other such nonsense. They're enchanting to look at, but dreary beyond belief to hear.

You're a boy playing in men's games, Sharpie, and you're going to lose unless you're a man. Are you man enough to fight me here? Put me down? Claim I was kicked by a horse in the night? You can try, Sharpie, but you're not man enough, are you?

A man does not go into battle without fear.

victory does not come to men ho listen to their fears.

The square would end with a huddle of bloodied men around the colors and the enemy would fall on them and for a few moments it would be steel against steel, and the sergeant reckoned he would give the flag to a wounded man and do what harm he could with the heavy, long-shafted axe. It was a pity to die, but he was a soldier, and no one had yet devised a way a man could live for ever, not even those clever bastards in Edinburgh.

Uhtred of Steapa - He might be dumb as a parsnip but he knows how to fight.

Night was falling across the trampled rye. Nine thousand men had been killed or wounded in the fight for the crossroads

Step forward again, hold the shield steady. Peer over the top. Fear is screaming somewhere deep. Ignore it. You can smell the shit now. Shit and blood, the stench of glory. The enemy is more frightened. Kill them. Keep the shields steady. Kill.

So much is expected of a king. He must be brave i battle, wise i council, just in judgement.

I raised the sword to my lips and kissed her long blade. "You have men to kill," I told her, "and revenge to take." And so she had.

I want it to be the poet's Camelot: green grass and high towers and ladies in gowns and warriors strewing their paths with flowers. I want minstrels and laughter! Wasn't it ever like that? A little, I said, though I don't remember many flowery paths. I do recall the warriors limping out of battle, and some of them crawling and weeping with their guts trailing behind them in the dust.

If my body is recovered, Colonel, pray have it sent back to Normandy. My companion, on the other hand, is from Boston, so you may allow his body to rot in whatever noxious swamp it comes to rest. Come on, boy!

They gave death with impunity as they followed a war-maddened Scotsman down an enemy wall that was sticky with blood.

I had broken three Saxon shield-walls and buried Hywelbane to her hilt in my country's enemies before I had been elected to Mithras's service, but all Lancelot had ever done was boast and posture.

My dear: in this world there is always danger for those who are afraid of it.

Would the world ever have been made if its maker had been afraid of making trouble? Making life means making trouble. Theres only one way of escaping trouble; and thats killing things. Cowards, you notice, are always shrieking to have troublesome people killed.

No true warrior should die in his bed.

The value of being brave, working hard, saving money keeping order depends on what it's for.

Bravery is good when the cause is good.