Quotes About Conflict

Who goes there? At the same time, the click of guns, as they were lowered into position, was heard. Enjolras replied in a haughty and vibrating tone:— The French Revolution!

Se dice que en toda manada de lobos hay un perro al que la loba mata, porque si lo deja vivir al crecer devoraría a los demás cachorros. Dad un rostro humano a este perro hijo de loba y tendréis el retrato de aquel hombre.

Si tout autour de moi, est monotone et décoloré, n'y a-t-il pas en moi une tempête, une lutte, une tragédie?

This is one of those rare moments when, while doing that which it is one's duty to do, one feels something which disconcerts one, and which would dissuade one from proceeding further; one persists, it is necessary, but conscience, though satisfied, is sad, and the accomplishment of duty is complicated with a pain at the heart.

For our part, if we were forced to make a choice between the barbarians of civilization and the civilized men of barbarism, we should choose the barbarians.

Moreover, and we must not forget this, interests which are not very friendly to the ideal and the sentimental are in the way. Somestimes the stomach paralyzes the heart.

Friend' is sometimes a word devoid of meaning; enemy, never.

Which of the two was the victim of the other?

Tal es la explicación de la guerra, que es algo que lleva a cabo la humanidad contra la humanidad pese a la humanidad.

A certain amount of tempest is always mingled with a battle. Quid obscurum, quid divinum. Each historian traces, to some extent, the particular feature which pleases him amid this pell-mell.

During the years of suffering he reachd the conclusion that life was war in which he was one of the defeated. Hatred was his onlt weapon, and he resolved to sharpen it in prison and carry it with him when he left.

Civil war? What does that mean? Is there any foreign war? Isn't every war fought between men, between brothers?

A beautiful woman is a casus belli; a pretty woman is flagrant misdemeanour. All the invasions of history have been determined by petticoats.

La guerre, c'est la guerre des hommes; la paix c'est la guerre des idées.

He had come to the supreme crossing of good and evil. He had that gloomy intersection beneath his eyes. On this occasion once more, as had happened to him already in other sad vicissitudes, two roads opened out before him, the one tempting, the other alarming. Which was he to take?

The French Revolution, which is nothing else than the idea armed with the sword, rose erect, and, with the same abrupt movement, closed the door of ill and opened the door of good.

War has frightful beauties which we have not concealed; it has also, we acknowledge, some hideous features. One of the most surprising is the prompt stripping of the bodies of the dead after the victory. The dawn which follows a battle always rises on naked corpses.

At five in the morning, some policemen, unannounced, entered the house of a man named Pardon, later a member of the section of the Barricade-Merry, and still later killed in the insurrection of April 1834, found him standing not far from his bed, with cartridges in his hands, caught in the act.

Nous ne sommes pas de ceux qui flattent la guerre; quand l'occasion s'en présente, nous lui disons ses vérités. La guerre a d'affreuses beautés que nous n'avons point cachées; elle a aussi, convenons-en, quelques laideurs. Une des plus surprenantes, c'est le prompt dépouillement des morts après la victoire. L'aube qui suit une bataille se lève toujours sur des cadavres nus.

Jean Valjean disconcerted him. All the axioms which had served him as points of support all his life long, had crumbled away in the presence of this man. Jean Valjean's generosity towards him, Javert, crushed him.

He did not understand how men could busy themselves with hating each other because of silly stuff like the charter, democracy, legitimacy, monarchy, the republic, etc., when there were in the world all sorts of mosses, grasses, and shrubs which they might be looking at, and

Civil war? What does that mean? Is there any war that is not fought between men, between brothers?

Factions are blind men who aim correctly.

A harmony established contrary to sense is often more onerous than a war.