Quotes About Conflict

Very often, when you get into a conversation that's more of a debate, you'll pick up that the other person is venting at you. And when someone vents at you, it triggers a reaction. You get defensive and vent back.

I venture to say no war can be long carried on against the will of the people.

I did a gig for the Red Cross during the Balkans conflict, but we couldnt land in the city as they were trying to shoot the planes down. We had to land in Budapest and make the seven-hour car journey on bumpy roads instead, and when we finally arrived, a riot almost broke out in the venue.

I've been through a lot of beef with other singers, but it's all verbal.

How do you deal with a criminal that will not listen to what you have to say and who continues his policy of violence? Some say you continue to talk and let him tire himself out. But nearly 40 years after the institution of apartheid, is there anyone who still believes that verbal persuasion will work?

As a frequent rider of the subway myself, I cannot count the number of times I have had to personally intercede in a physical or verbal altercation, whether on the platform or in a subway car.

To my mind, what we ought to have maintained from the beginning was the strictest neutrality. If we had done this, I do not believe we would have been on the verge of war at the present time.

One of the problems in the Ukrainian crisis is that very few Westerners know their history, or if they know it, what they learn is what we call the Russian version of history.

când oameni mulÈ›i se afl? împreun?, trebuie separaÈ›i prin ritualuri, altfel se masacreaz?.

Every anti-communist is a dog.

Undecidables disrupt this oppositional logic. They slip across both sides of an opposition but don't properly fit either. They are more than the opposition can allow. And because of that, they question the very principle of "opposition".

In the battle between the old brain and the neocortex, the old brain usually wins. We eat the cake.

I had killed our careful relationship by driving my tongue through its heart and pushing it off a cliff.

It's always me, isn't it? I'm not really a very nice person, but for some reason it's always me that they come to with their problems.Oh, Dexter, a savage inhuman monster has taken my boyfriend! Well damn it, I'm a savage inhuman monster, too—didn't that entitle me to some rest?

being torn apart by far too many loyalties that could not possibly live together in the same brain.

Dogs were always a problem. They don't like me and they quite often disapprove of what I do to their masters, especially since I don't share the good pieces.

Sooner or later, having two separate agendas is going to cause trouble.

A reasonable being might think that he and I could find some common ground; have a cup of coffee and compare our Passengers, exchange trade talk and chitchat about dismemberment techniques. But no: Doakes wanted me dead. And I found it difficult to share his point of view.

THERE ARE NIGHTS EVERY NOW AND THEN WHEN THE Dark Passenger really must get out to play. It's like walking a dog. You can ignore the barking and scratching at the door for only so long, and then you must take the beast outside.

Goddamn it!" she said to me through a mouthful of sandwich. It was certainly far from a novel phrase coming from her, but she said it with a viciousness that left me lightly spattered with bread crumbs. I took a sip of my excellent batido de mamey and waited for her to expand on her argument, but instead she simply said it again. "Goddamn it!

And so there we were, balanced on a knife edge that was unfortunately only metaphorical. Sooner or later, I had to be me. But until then I would see an awful lot of Rita. She couldn't hold a candle to my old flame, the Dark Passenger, but I did need my secret identity. And until I escaped Doakes, Rita was my cape, red tights, and utility belt—almost the entire costume.

Deborah snapped me out of my pathetic fugue by slapping her hands on the steering wheel. "Goddamn it," she said. "I just don't fucking trust her." I

Is that what you call it now?" she said, and although her words might as well have been in Estonian, for all the sense they made, her tone was very clear, and it did not hold even the memory of anything pleasant. I

There would be no struggle, no negotiation, nothing but an end to all that is Dexter.