Quotes About Conflict

Wayne recognized him. The fellow had tried to shoot him, so Wayne had broken his arm with a dueling cane. Downright rude, trying to shoot like that. When a fellow pulls out a dueling cane, you should respond with one of your own—or at least a knife. Trying to shoot Wayne was like bringing dice to a card game. What was the world coming to?

No person was one single emotion; no person had only one desire. They had many, and usually those desires conflicted with one another like two rosebushes fighting for the same patch of ground.

Cobb,' I said, stepping closer. 'Those aren't bloodthirsty monsters out there; they're just people. Normal people, with lives, and loves, and families.' 'And what did you *think* we've been fighting against all these years?' Cobb asked.

It was gratifying to see how much one could accomplish in both politics and trade by liberally murdering the other fellow's soldiers.

Heroism is a myth you tell idealistic young people—specifically when you want them to go bleed for you. It got one of my sons killed and another taken from me. You can keep your heroism and return to me the lives of those wasted on foolish conflicts.

Middle ground only comes in war after lots of people have died—and only after the important people are worried they might actually lose.

At that moment, Kaladin knew he could kill, if he needed to. Some people—like a festering finger or a leg shattered beyond repair—just needed to be removed.

A man should never pull a trigger unless he's willing to kill. And if the other fellow is armed, I'm going to aim for the chest. That way, when people do die around me, it's the right ones.

No estás de acuerdo con mi misión. Lo comprendo en la medida que es posible comprender a alguien con quien estoy completamente en desacuerdo.

You are striding atop a very thin wall, my friend. Loyalty is a difficult thing to divide.

Syl shouted. YOU CANNOT HOLD ME BACK IF HE SPEAKS THE WORDS! THE WORDS, KALADIN! SAY THEM! "I will protect even those I hate," Kaladin whispered through bloody lips. "So long as it is right." A Shardblade appeared in Moash's hands. A distant rumbling. Thunder. THE WORDS ARE ACCEPTED, the Stormfather said reluctantly.

It was strange, how easily and quickly protection could cause destruction. Sometimes, Vasher wondered if the two weren't really the same thing. Protect a flower, destroy the pests who wanted to feed on it. Protect a building, destroy the plants that could have grown in the soil. Protect a man. Live with the destruction he creates.

Where there are villains, there will be heroes

As soon as one revolution achieves its goal, another will begin to scheme.

Thank you." "For?" "Defending my honor. When Adolin does that, someone usually gets stabbed. Your way was pleasanter.

What is happening? The king put Dalinar's heir in here?" "The king didn't have anything to do with it," the jailer said. "Brightlord Adolin insisted. So long as you were in here, he wouldn't leave. We tried to stop him, but the man's a prince. We can't storming make him do anything, not even leave. He locked himself away in the cell and we just had to live with it." Impossible.

Humans don't have programming." "Yes you do. You have too much of it. Conflicting programs, none of it interfacing properly, all calling different functions at the same time—or the same function for contradictory reasons. Yet you ignore it sometimes. That is not a flaw. It is what makes you you." I

Sangre. El hedor de los cuerpos ardiendo. Al final, la derrota y la victoria tenían el mismo olor. Pero sonaban distinto.

He descubierto que, si renuncias a lo que más quieres por lo que piensas que deberías querer más, acabarás sintiéndote inútil.

I didn't have all the answers, but at least I had a goal. Revenge. Who cared if it would eat me up inside and leave me hollow?

How did men believe in something that preached love on one hand, yet taught destruction of unbelievers on the other?

We were an audience watching a duet. A duet in which the violinists tried to ram their violins down each other's throats.

She looked at me, her electricity flaring to life—growing more violent, more dangerous, lighting the room like a calzone stuffed with dynamite. Uh-oh Ã¢â'¬Â¦

War means desperation, and desperation is our mother's milk, kid.