Quotes About Conflict

Danger knows full well that Caesar is more dangerous than he. We are two lions litter'd in one day, and I the elder and more terrible.

Relent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yield Thy crazed title to my certain right. LYSANDER You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him.

Let me have war, say I: it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of men.

Let me twine Mine arms about that body, where against My grained ash an hundred times hath broke And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip The anvil of my sword, and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love As ever in ambitious strength I did Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, I loved the maid I married; never man Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here, Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart Than when I first my wedded mistress saw Bestride my threshold.

I will not trust you, I, Nor longer stay in your curst company. Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray, My legs are longer though, to run away.

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself.

By my head, here come the Capulets. Mercutio- By my heel, I care not.

Why, that is nothing: for I tell you, father, I am as peremptory as she proud-minded; And where two raging fires meet together They do consume the thing that feeds their fury: Though little fire grows great with little wind, Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all: So I to her and so she yields to me; For I am rough and woo not like a babe.

What soilders whey-face? The English for so please you. Take thy face hence.

As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.

In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond...

I hate the murderer, love him murdered.

Now put your shields before your hearts and fight / With hearts more proof than shields. Advance, my fellows!

O, from this time forth, My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!

Lay on, McDuff, and be damned he who first cries, 'Hold, enough!

I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the North; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots as a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife, 'Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.

My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives.

What art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee Benvolio, look upon thy death.

All is the fear, and nothing is the love, as little is the wisdom, where the flight so runs against all reason.

I have no words. My voice is in my sword.

There is Throats to be cut, and Works to be done.

Mother, you have my father much offended.

Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries that Thou hast done to me. Therefore turn and draw.

I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.