Quotes About Conflict

I am out of the saga, he thought. He had a heavy sense of being left in total isolation; everyone had withdrawn from him and the person who could most have helped him was pre-empted by another.

We're just living on our emotions and eating each other.

Lucas hated other people, and also hated himself.

That's how vile I am! I live Ireland, I breathe Ireland, and Christ how I loathe it, I wish I were a bloody Scot, that's how bloody awful it is being Irish! I think I hate Ireland more than I hate the theatre, and that's saying something!

He was extremely angry with Bellamy who had, when Clement needed him, refused to be with him.

We were eternally divided. And it somehow seemed strange to me that this had not happened earlier, so dangerous were we to each other.

Desperate for help, living his life now as a hideous dream, he had told nobody.

Happiness. What's that? I don't know. How can one be happy when one loves a demon?

I have always wanted to kill you, all my life led to that blow. Jealousy and hatred compose my earliest memories. I have killed you every day in my thoughts.

Artists are indeed unlikely to be good, goodness would silence them.

Literature must always represent a battle between real people and images'.

Nothing will bring me peace except revenge.

I have always wanted to kill you, ever since the moment when I learnt of your existence.

Christ, I loathe women. But I can't get going on the other tack either. And you needn't blush and look coy, I never fancied you. I know what you got up to with Fritzie Eitel! No—but I'd have had old Wilfred if he'd asked me. What did old Wilfred do for sex? No one ever knew. Perhaps he didn't have any, and if so good on him.

Charles, don't destroy yourself, said James. Why are you always so intent on breaking everything that surrounds and supports you?

Moreover, and of course, she loved him; but in Sefton's stern code her love had always been chained up, and howled fruitlessly, as indeed it did now.

How can I even think of such a fate . . . Better to commit murder.

Bellamy was sorry to hurt Clement's feelings, but he so intensely wanted to be alone where he could confront the awful cacophony of his own feelings.

Perhaps his demons were quite other.

He felt obscurely the dividedness of his being, the extent of what was gross, the littleness and value of what was not.

There's little enough love in the world. Why do you want to kill mine?

Why did I ever leave them, what was I fleeing from? What spoilt scene that I could not then endure?

Although he longed to see Louise, and to see Aleph, he increasingly lacked the will to go.

In my experience a good row not only does not clear the air but can land you with a lifelong enemy.