Quotes About Fighting

I know I am brave because the thought of giving up scares me more than the thought of fighting

Seduction is manipulation, manipulation is half of argument, and therefore many of us shy from it. But seduction offers more than just consensual sex. It can bring you consensus. Even Aristotle, that logical old soul, believed in the curative powers of seduction. Logic alone will rarely get people to do anything. They have to desire the act. You may not like seduction's manipulative aspects; still, it beats fighting, which is what we usually mistake for an argument.

He said that there was no reason to suppose that good would come out of evil: society couldn't be expected to mature overnight just because there had been a catastrophe. In fact, probably just the opposite would happen. He said that when there were shortages people always fought and became aggressive.

I like to pretend that you belong to me, just to play with the idea, but of course I know you don't. I'm alone, really--with my back to the wall fighting the world--and I get sort of gaspy when I think about it. I put it out of my mind, and keep on pretending; but don't you see, Daddy?

I like to pretend that you belong to me, just to play with the idea, but of course I know you don't. I'm alone, really-with my back to the wall fighting the world-and I get sort of gaspy when I think about it. I put it out of my mind, and keep on pretending ~

People tend to think that happiness is a stroke of luck, something that will descend like fine weather if you're fortunate. But happiness is the result of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel around the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlessly.

He told them that they must live their most creative lives as a means of fighting back against the ruthless furnace of this world. Most of all, though, he asked his students to be brave. Without bravery, he instructed, they would never be able to realize the vaulting scope of their own capacities. Without bravery, they would never know the world as richly as it longs to be known. Without bravery, their lives would remain small—far smaller than they probably wanted their lives to be.

Students told me he was the most extraordinary man they'd ever encountered. He had seemed not quite of this world, they said. He seemed to live in a state of uninterrupted marvel, and he encouraged them to do the same. He didn't so much teach them how to write poetry, they said, but why: because of delight. Because of stubborn gladness. He told them that they must live their most creative lives as a means of fighting back against the ruthless furnace of this world.

He told them that they must live their most creative lives as a means of fighting back against the ruthless furnace of this world.

He seemed to live in a state of uninterrupted marvel, and he encouraged them to do the same. He didn't so much teach them how to write poetry, they said, but why: because of delight. Because of stubborn gladness. He told them that they must live their most creative lives as a means of fighting back against the ruthless furnace of this world.

He didn't so much teach them how to write poetry, they said, but why: because of delight. Because of stubborn gladness. He told them that they must live their most creative lives as a means of fighting back against the ruthless furnace of this world.

they must live their most creative lives as a means of fighting back against the ruthless furnace of this world.

To build unity requires recognizing the central role of young activists. They are vigorously fighting the attack on this century's Reconstruction. Their anger at today's ugly society often translates into a passionate drive for unity across color lines.

Best stick to sword fighting, then I'd rather, really. But [Ian] says -- I know what [Ian] says. Everyone should learn every conceivable weapon and unarmed combat, in case you lose your axe, sword, dagger, pike, spear, mace, bow, crossbow...

It's not unsporting to thrash a cowardly cad,' said Simmons. 'Everyone knows you don't fight like a gentleman.' 'That might be called an oxymoron,' Ramses said. 'Oh--sorry. Bad form to use long words. Look it up when you get home.' The poor devil didn't know how to fight, like a gentleman or otherwise.

I have never been able to understand how men can feel affection for individuals who are intent on massacring them in a variety of unpleasant ways, but it is an undeniable fact that they can and do. Witness the immortal verse of Mr. Kipling: So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'home in the Soudan; You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man! One can only accept this as another example of the peculiar emotional aberrations of the male sex.

Sometimes it pays to fight back, even when everyone says it would be better to give up.

The King's court was in no hurry to return to England, that late autumn of 1120, even though the fighting, somewhat desultory in these last stages, was long over.

Fresh from brawling courtsAnd dusty purlieus of the law.

The Burgundian chronicler Philippe de Commines thought the English a choleric, earthy, and volatile people, who nevertheless made good, brave soldiers. In fact he regarded their warlike inclinations as one of the chief causes of the Wars of the Roses. If they could not fight the French, he believed, they fought each other.

The great house glitters with bronze. War has patterned the roof with shining helmets, their horsehair plumes waving in wind, headdress of fighting men. And pegs are concealed under bright greaves of brass that block the iron-tipped arrows. Many fresh-linen corslets are hanging and hollow shields are heaped about the floor, and standing in rows are swords of Chalkidian steel, belt-knives and warrior's kilts. We cannot forget our arms and armor when soon our dreadful duties begin.

That piece of red, white and blue bunting means five thousand years of struggle upwards. It is the full-grown flower of ages of fighting for liberty. It is the century plant of human hope in bloom.

It seemed that some part of my battling soul remained my own. For slowly, as if I was wading through soft, wet, sucking sand, I began to fight back. I threw myself against the fear, forcing it into submission. And as a small amount of daylight cleared amid the blackness, I recognized this for what it was. I'd just been attacked. And instantly reason returned.

All those men fightin' for freedom. We gotta be brave too.