Quotes About Conflict

the demands of writing and of real life are not always similar.

Well, you finally got me, Helen had whispered to him, tearfully, but Garp had sprawled there, on his back on the wrestling mat, wondering who had gotten whom.

What did you do that for?" the customs guy asked him. "We haven't been getting along lately," Jack admitted. "Well, this'll really help," the guy said.

Ciocia Marta (....) w obronie demokracji potrafi?a sta? si? tyranem.

when however small a measure of jealousy is mixed with misunderstanding, there is going to be trouble.

Ah, well... I started to say, and then stopped. So that was where he was going; I'd heard it before. Richard had told me that I'd not been standing in my mother's shoes in 1942, when I was born; he'd said I couldn't, or shouldn't, judge her. It was my not forgiving her that irked him-it was my intolerance of her intolerance that bugged him.

She was so angry, she struck the cool, viscid thigh of Oren Rath. After she had lived through this, now there was a fucking tornado, too!

People will always make sides," Garp said, "—of everything.

Why do we need them if we hate them?" the daughter tiredly asked. "We hate them because we need them," the mother answered, her speech slurred.

My brain is sending poison to my heart, he told Homer...

heard all the grown-ups kiss Franny good night and I thought: Families must be like this—gore one minute, forgiveness the next.

The girl looked too frightened to speak. Then she said: "I know you have to give my mother the flag—at the funeral. I know what my mother's gonna do—when you give her the flag. She said she's gonna spit on you," the pregnant sister told Owen. "And I know her—she will!" the girl said. "She'll spit in your face!" "IT HAPPENS, SOMETIMES," Owen said.

To watch my mother onstage, and to watch Dan being awful to her, was such a riveting lie. It was not the play that interested us—it was what a lie it was: that Dan was awful to my mother, that he meant her harm. That was fascinating.

Danny knew what Armando would say: "You don't try to make peace with assholes," or words to that effect

The Clone Wars were yet another thing to be upset about. Everything about that conflict had been a lie. The Separatists had been this big enemy, and yet when the Empire was declared they'd melted away as if at the push of a button. The big corporations had staged the whole thing, Skelly was sure. Wars sold more ships, more weapons, and more medical devices. And in the Clone Wars, even the soldiers on both sides were manufactured goods.

This ends now, gunslinger. Draw your weapon.

You're fortunate I've already beaten someone else to death today, gunslinger. I have a schedule to keep.

The problem was that blowing things up was the only thing Skelly had ever been taught to do.

The planets still existed, for sure; she doubted Chancellor Palpa-whoosit or anyone he was fighting had the power to change that.

We was at Sharpsburg. Charlie still is.

The concert of the guns was ready to resume.

What would bring the Confederacy to an inglorious end was the same thing that had so foolishly created it a rigidity of thought, a clinging to old ways, a refusal to adapt and change.

I'm not sure it's altogether right to encourage and reward fighting and killing, but that's the way things are.

I submit that we are not arguing what is or is not good business. We are arguing the choice of liberty or tyranny. Courage or cowardice!