Quotes About Bombs

This new phenomena [atomic energy] would also lead to the construction of bombs…. A single bomb of this type, carried by boat and exploded in a port, might very well destroy the whole port, together with some of the surrounding territory. However, such bombs might very well prove to be too heavy for transportation by air.

We cannot be any stronger in our foreign policy for all the bombs and guns we may heap up in our arsenals than we are in the spirit which rules inside the country. Foreign policy, like a river, cannot rise above its source.

The overarching problem is one of the survival of humanity in the face of the growing nuclear menace. If those bombs go off, nothing else would matter.

What's beautiful about Godzilla is, of course, it's in every way a symbol of Japan dealing with the aftermath of the atomic bombs being dropped on them, and their ideas of how they're affected by it.

Rutherford's and Soddy's discussions of radioactive change therefore inspired the science fiction novel that eventually started Leo Szilard thinking about chain reactions and atomic bombs.

The few explosions did not seem a miracle of deliverance to the civilians of the enemy cities upon whom the bombs would be dropped.

They go to Paris to learn how to make bombs and they come back having learned only how to write poetry, which they think is more explosive.

Lindbergh knew perfectly well what modern bombs could do to cities but, seeing Nazi Germany for the first time, the idea of a new and very dangerous war became real to him.

We were not afraid. And yet, if a bomb had fallen on the blocks, it alone would have claimed hundreds of victims on the spot. But we were no longer afraid of death; at any rate, not of that death. Every bomb that exploded filled us with joy and gave us new confidence in life.

And I thought about the psychic numbing involved in strategic projections of using hydrogen bombs or nuclear weapons of any kind. And I also thought about ways in which all of us undergo what could be called the numbing of everyday life.

What is tricky for those hoping to utilize such weapons is that TATP bombs are quite difficult to make because their ingredients, when combined, are highly unstable and can explode easily if mishandled.

Ideas must counter ideas. You can drop all the bombs you want, but if you don't pull up weeds by their roots, they just grow back.

But that life, that time, seems like a dream now, even to me, like some long-dissolved rumor. First came the protests. Then the siege. The skies spitting bombs. Starvation. Burials. These are the things you know.

I mean, I was born the day war broke out, but I don't remember all the bombs though they did actually break up Liverpool, you know. I remember when I was a little older, there was big gaps in all the streets where houses used to be. We used to play over them.

But was art worth a life, Taper wanted to know. Like all Monuments Men, it was a question that haunted him. "I had that choice," Leonard said. "I chose to remove the bombs. It was worth the reward." "What reward?" "When I finished, I got to sit in Chartres Cathedral, the cathedral I had helped save, for almost an hour. Alone.

You probably used fusion bombs against the Girls.

It doesn't matter whether you're talking about bombs or the intelligence quotients of one race as against another if a man is a scientist, like me, he'll always say Publish and be damned.

I marched and I protested against the war in Vietnam, along with many, many thousands of others. But I never quite understood the bombs that were placed in science labs or office buildings.

Catalan metalworkers quickly fashioned armored cars that looked like giant boxes on wheels by welding steel plates to the frames of trucks and automobiles. Others fashioned homemade bombs and hand grenades, and thousands pitched in to build street barricades of everything from dead horses to massive rolls of newsprint to paving stones passed hand-to-hand along a chain of people. Office

It was disquieting to Eddie, this jarring contrast between the bright, cheery atmosphere inside Palisades and the slowly darkening world outside it. As calliope music played and diapered babies crawled in derbies, bombs fell on the other side of the world, which no longer seemed so comfortably distant.

Then there are no more planes, no more sounds of bombs. Our voices die down and the courtyard is quiet. It stays like that for a long time. Everyone is afraid to move in case a new wave of bombing starts up. "It is a miracle!" a woman cries. Then suddenly everyone is getting up from the ground, shaking off snow, embracing each other, cheering. "A miracle!" Mother agrees. There

It's not the bombs I'm scared of any more, it's the weariness," wrote a female civil servant in her Mass-Observation diary—"trying to work and concentrate with your eyes sticking out of your head like hat-pins, after being up all night. I'd die in my sleep, happily, if only I could sleep.

Each sudden gust of light explains itself as flames, but neither they, nor even bombs redoubled on the hills tonight can quite include me in their fear.

The word war itself has a kind of glazing abstraction to it that conjures up bombs and bullets and so on, whereas my goal is to try to, so much as I can, capture the heart and the stomach and the back of the throat of readers who can lie in bed at night and participate in a story.