Quotes About Conflict

She had on men's clothes—the hat, britches, shirt, boots, even a six-gun she wore on her hip. It had never bothered her before Rylan Carstens. She wiped her eyes. It was sure enough bothering her now.

Rylan bent low over his horse, coming as fast as he could on the rocky ground that rose to this bluff along the river. Was he trying to kill her? If so, he was doing a poor job of it. The bullets were missing, going way over her head. But even on her worst day, she'd never done anything to make the man killing mad. And Maizy knew, even though Rylan seemed like a mighty cranky man, that he wasn't the type to shoot a young woman, especially not for just being annoying.

They looked at each other in dismay, and she knew just what he was thinking. He wanted her gone, but he needed her. She wanted to help, but she wanted to do it wearing britches. Neither of them had a hope of getting what they wanted.

She practically growled. He was afraid of her when she growled.

The FBI had staged the whole Beck-McClosky incident from beginning to end, possibly threatening Beck with long jail terms for his various crimes unless he cooperated. Later they tried to justify their assault on Crow Dog's place by pressing phony charges. We

I had the feeling that the feds were in a strange way afraid of us. While we were relaxed, as Indians usually are, they were nervous and trigger-happy. One

we played Indian music—grass dance songs and powwow stuff—the marshals thought these were our death songs and got all worked up, expecting a banzai charge. One

Thus it happened that the great-grandsons of Yellow Hair, Custer, were counting coup on the Blue Coats of 1973. For

I guess you hate the people most who make the most justifiable demands. Because they go to the heart of our psyche. We know they are right, and therefore we

sitting there with the blanket over him was the only thing he could think of to make all the hotheads, white and red, curious enough to forget fighting. Then

I don't know whether I am a louse under the white man's skin. I hope I am.

We are aware that the gods of patriarchy are pale derivatives and reversals of ancient yet always Present Goddess(es). We suspect that phallocentric writers and artists who have even a glimmer of insight are sometimes made uncomfortable by their own state of deception. Those who have any awareness of the heinous crime of reversal which is patriarchy must be in a state of deep conflict and fear of...Her.

The power of sisterhood is not war-power. There have been and will be conflicts, but the Final cause causes no by conflict but by attraction.

Sometimes dramatic people try to draw you into someone else's drama, and that never ends well. Interfering is like pulling on a dangerous dog's ears. Do it at your own peril.

It's not an easy thing to tell the girl that you love more than life itself that you're going to marry someone else.

Betrayal tends to familiarize one with weapons.

You've always been two people. The Jenna who wants to please and the Jenna who secretly resents in. They won't break, you know. Your parents never thought you were perfect. You did.

I hated that I found him—appealing. Not just his appearance, but the confidence of his strides, the calculations in his gaze, his cockiness, his damned voice. I hated the ridiculous flip-flop my stomach did just now when I caught him looking at me.

It's awkward, isn't it?" he said. "What's that?" I replied, my voice far too breathy. "These moments when we're not hating each other.

Now I understood why Sven preferred soldiering to love. It was easier to understand and far less likely to get you killed. I

This was something I'd never been trained for. There were no military strategies or drills to prepare me for the daily torment of not killing someone.

I'm sure our paths will cross again, and our differences will be settled once and for all. Walk carefully, because next time it will be I who will surprise you." My

A war raged inside her, one she held back, biting it off like a poisonous snake with disturbing self-control.

Killing in the name of war was one thing. Killing one's own kin was quite another.