Quotes About Peace

What the world needs now is love, sweet love / It's the only thing that there's just too little of.

Be at peace, darling, be at peace, be at peace. Do you remember me? Do you remember? You are, indeed, my only and my last love. Be at peace, I am with you. Think of me, I will be with you, because you and I did not love each other only for one moment, but forever. Do you remember me? Do you remember? Do you remember? And now I feel your tears. Be at peace. It is sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet for me to sleep.

I have a great sense of Stuart and silence on these nights. The village, wrapped in sleep; owls glide between the yew trees, badgers poddle across the graves. Then Stuart, cleaving the peacefulness. All people, gone. No educational experts, medical specialists, bullies, policemen. His mother's disapproval, hot on his heels, runs out of breath after half a mile. It is Stuart and the earth, just those two.

If more women were in power, they wouldn't let wars break out, she said. Women can't be bothered with all this fighting. We see war for what it is- a matter of broken bodies and crying mothers.

How many of us are happy to be exactly where we are at any moment?...only the completely happy think that they are in the correct place.

Great feuds often need very few words to resolve them. Disputes, even between nations, between peoples, can be set to rest with simple acts of contrition and corresponding forgiveness, can so often be shown to be based on nothing much other than pride and misunderstanding, and the forgetting of the humanity of the other—and land, of course.

a drive in the country, an expedition to a shoe shop a quiet cup of tea under a cloudless sky; each of us had something that made it easier to continue in a world that sometimes, just sometimes, was not as we might wish it to be.

How many of us are happy to be exactly where we are at any moment?

We don't hate people, Puso. We don't hate anybody." He looked at her sullenly. "Why?" he asked. "Because hate makes you very tired," said Mma Ramotswe. She wondered whether there was more to say, but suddenly she felt tired herself.

There are so many people who would love to be able to live in peace, but there are so many others who do not want to let them. Mr.

Forgiveness was never easy, but Mma Ramotswe believed in it because she knew that without forgiveness we cluttered our lives with old business.

Not forgiving was like scratching at a sore to keep the healing scab from forming.

People were forever digging up events that had taken place a long time ago. And what was the point in doing this if the effect was merely to poison the present? There were many wrongs in the past, but did it help to keep bringing them up and giving them a fresh airing?

How can you have a peaceful country where one half of the population thinks that the other is wrong, or hostile, or determined to do them down? What better recipe for unhappiness was there than that?

But if you do not forgive, and you think all the time about getting even, or punishing somebody who has done you a wrong, what are you achieving?

them that if we do not forgive then we run the risk of being eaten up with hatred inside

Even a battlefield can be peaceful, can be a place for flowers to grow, for children to play; the memories, the sadness, are within us, not part of the world about us.

Mma Ramotswe smiled, but only to herself.

It is sometimes easier to be happy if you don't know everything.

There are plenty of good stories. There are plenty of good people who go through life without … well, without anger. Who are kind to other folk. Who don't rant and rage.

We should love one another, she thought, not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because it was far easier than hating one another. People who hated often had to work quite hard at keeping their hatred warm.

Forgiveness was never easy, but Mma Ramotswe believed in it because she knew that without forgiveness we cluttered our lives with old business. Not forgiving was like scratching at a sore to keep the healing scab from forming.

The ordinary people of Africa tended not to have room in their hearts for hatred. They were sometimes foolish, like people anywhere, but they did not bear grudges, as Mr Mandela had shown the world.

The world was an imperfect place--as the events of the last few days had demonstrated--but within that vale of tears there were many sites and times of quietude and contentment, and this place and this moment on the veranda was one such.