Quotes About Conflict

Everything in me wanted to go home. To fall on my dad, tell him about Jimmy, and tell him 'I'm sorry.' But there was another part of me that would not let me do that. And that part needed to make something of the mess that was me. To walk home with something more than scars and empty hands. To be something other than a failure. I was caught in the middle of that tug-of-war.

hatred and anger does not kill hatred and anger.

Sir, I've had the experience of being in a country where people were trying to kill me. Every day. That simplifies life a good bit. In matters of the heart, we have only two options. Hate them or love them. That's it. That's all we got. There's no middle.

five ways of "knowing": personal experience, revelation, empirical evidence, logic, and hearsay. Given those methods of knowing something, I know this—and I'd stake my life on it: William "Liam" McFarland willingly took the fall for something he didn't do. I have lived my entire life in a chasm, pulled between two polar tensions.

If your knuckles are bloodier than your knees, then you're fighting the wrong battle.

Rooster said, "Fill your hand, you son of a bitch!" and he took the reins in his teeth and pulled the other saddle revolver and drove his spurs into the flanks of his strong horse Bo and charged directly at the bandits. It was a sight to see. He held the revolvers wide on either side of the head of his plunging steed. The four bandits accepted the challenge and they likewise pulled their arms and charged their ponies ahead.

I will own I was somewhat afraid of them although they were not, as you may imagine, wild Comanches with painted faces and outlandish garb but rather civilized Creeks and Cherokees and Choctaws from Mississippi and Alabama who had owned slaves and fought for the Confederacy and wore store clothes. Neither were they sullen and grave. I thought them on the cheerful side as they nodded and spoke greetings.

Get crossways of me, LaBoeuf, and you will think a thousand brick has fell on you.

Webster Spooner carried my bag upstairs and showed me to my room. He said he would keep an eye on the car. I didn't see how he was going to do that from his box. I knew he was a sound sleeper. The woman Ruth had almost had to kill him to get him awake.

She said, 'Goodbye, Reuben, a love for decency does not abide in you.' There is your divorced woman talking about decency. I told her, I said, 'Goodbye, Nola, I hope that little nail selling bastard will make you happy this time.

It was a pattern he would play out his entire life: Rather than lose someone he cared for, he would withdraw first, usually by creating some mock conflict as a way of lessening the abandonment he felt was inevitable.

A devastating commentary on the war in Iraq is that we have been unable to spend money on infrastructure.

Arafat was a barrier to peace.

Heracles' heroic world and Deianeira's warmth and tenderness are mutually exclusive. Sophocles seeks not to vindicate the one against the other, but to dramatize the tragedy of their irreconcilability and their mutual destructiveness.

I always try to deal justly with everyone," she once said. "But if anyone wants to fight me I'll give him all the fight he wants.

Genuine goodness is threatening to those at the opposite end of the moral spectrum.

Courage is not measured by Marching bands and banners in the wind. If you have not walked The bloody lines and seen the faces, You have no right to describe it so. We die here to keep you safe at home, And what we suffer Pray you may never know.

Name me and emperor who was ever struck by a cannonball.

Dearest, I don't like you a bit," Anthony interrupted again. "I think you're a very detestable, selfish pig and prig. But I'm often wildly in love with you, and so I see you're not. But I'm sure your only chance of salvation is to marry me.

The moon was bright; he stood at the edge of his own skull's platform; desire to hate and desire not to hate struggled in him. In the moonlight, visible, audible, arm in arm, talking and laughing, they came. He saw them pass; his eyes grew blind. Presently he turned and went home. That night when at last he slept he dreamed, more clearly than ever before, of his steady descent of the moon-bright rope.

the war between good and evil existed no longer, for the thing beneath the Graal was not fighting but vomiting.

It was almost reckless how vulnerable she allowed herself to be; you couldn't help but hate her for doing that to herself, and at the same time hate yourself for giving in to it, and underneath all of that, despite your hate for her, couldn't help but love her.

I am at peace with God. My conflict is with Man.

Wars, conflict, it's all business. One murder makes a villain; millions a hero. Numbers sanctify.