Quotes About Battlefield

All the words I had prepared turned coward and fled my mind like conscripts deserting a battlefield.

The parties with the most gain never show up on the battlefield.

When soldiers have been baptized in the fire of a battle-field, they have all one rank in my eyes.

He who cannot look over a battlefield with a dry eye, causes the death of many men uselessly.

The battlefield is a scene of constant chaos. The winner will be the one who controls that chaos, both his own and the enemies.

Although we had no hope of defeating the enemy in the battlefield, nevertheless, we fought back to keep the idea of liberation alive. From a conversation with Richard Stengel, January 13, 1993

Right inner speech is essential. It is the greatest of the arts. It is the way out of limitation into freedom. Ignorance of this art has made the world a battlefield and penitentiary where blood and sweat alone are expected, when it should be a place of marvelling and wondering. Right inner talking is the first step to becoming what you want to be.

What, then is our duty It is to carefully distinguish the historic moment in which we live and to consciously assign our small energies to a specific battlefield. The more we are in phase with the current which leads the way, the more we aid man in his difficult, uncertain, danger-fraught ascent toward salvation.

Though a warrior must often suppress other emotions on the battlefield, love is the exception—because embodied in that virtue are all the best qualities a human can possess.

Higher man is a tragedy. With his graves he leaves behind the earth a battlefield and a wasteland. He has drawn plant and animal, the sea and mountain into his decline. He has painted the face of the world with blood, deformed and mutilated it. But there was greatness in it. When he is no more, his destiny will have been something great.

Anyone who has ever looked into the glazed eyes of a soldier dying on the battlefield will think hard before starting a war.

Untrained warriors are soon killed on the battlefield; so also persons untrained in the art of preserving their inner peace are quickly riddled by the bullets of worry and restlessness in active life.

How goes the battle?

How's the battle?

After all, what is happiness? Love, they tell me. But love doesn't bring and never has brought happiness. On the contrary, it's a constant state of anxiety, a battlefield; it's sleepless nights, asking ourselves all the time if we're doing the right thing. Real love is composed of ecstasy and agony.

If Paris may itself be compared to a battlefield, in the post-Napoleonic, proto-capitalist Restoration the way you win in its struggles is not by arms—despite Vautrin's rigged duel—but by insinuation, charm, gathering information, possessing social secrets.

Zebulun was a people who risked their lives; Naphtali, too, on the heights of the battlefield.

Charging horseman, flashing sword, shining spear; heaps of slain, mounds of corpses, dead bodies without end—they stumble over their dead—