Quotes About Conflict

Their books weren't ink marks on paper but God himself compressed between covers. No wonder they often ended up fighting with each other over who had the best words and the best symbols for God.

Indeed, as we have seen, the drama and tragedy of the moral life lies in the fact that most human disagreement is between opposing goods rather than between right and wrong.

It is strange how you shall hate a man, and yet pity him from the depths.

What would a Mohammedan vampire do if faced with a cross? The

He hungered for peace and there was no peace. Terror was his only food.

The flailing storm of lead crumpled and threw Jake Holman like a giant hand wadding wastepaper.

In December 1941 the Japanese poet Takamura K?tar? summed up the Japanese view of the conflict with the West: We are standing for justice and life, While they are standing for profits, We are defending justice, While they are attacking for profits, They raise their heads in arrogance, While we are constructing the Great East Asia family.

This was something Grandma Tilly couldn't understand---how war promises a boy it can make a man out of him.

A solider must leave someone behind,' she said. 'What men do best is walk away from women. Wars are handy for that.

And I'll tell you something else for free. If you set a foot over that doorsill, I'll wring your red neck.

The trenches are all filled in, but the boys are still dying.' Then I could read her thoughts and I knew what this day meant. Mrs. Abernathy's son could have been my dad.

The trenches are all filled in, but the boys are still dying.

Here's the thing about an apple: it sticks in the throat. It's a package deal: lust and understanding. Immortality and death. Sweet pulp with cyanide seeds. It's a bang on the head that births up whole sciences. A golden delicious discord, the kind of gift chucked into a wedding feast that leads to endless war. It's the fruit that keeps the gods alive. The first, worst crime, but a fortunate windfall. Blessed be the time that apple taken was.

voices or cell phone—choose your schizophrenia.

She has seen dieback across the West. Aspens are withering. Grazed on by everything with hooves, cut off from rejuvenating fire, whole groves are vanishing. Now she sees a forest, spreading across these mountains since before humans left Africa, giving way to second homes. She sees it in one great glimpse of flashing gold: trees and humans, at war over the land and water and atmosphere. And she can hear, louder than the quaking leaves, which side will lose by winning.

He tries to read a novel, something about privileged people having trouble getting along with each other in exotic locations. He throws it against the wall. Something has broken in him. His appetite for human self-regard is dead.

The bird and the fish may fall in love but where will they build their nest?

And she can hear, louder than the quaking leaves, which side will lose by winning.

She sees it in one great glimpse of flashing gold: trees and humans at war over the land and water and atmosphere. And she can hear, louder than the quaking leaves, which side will lose by winning.

Life is a battle between the Maker and His creation.

He'll die of idealism, of being right when the world is wrong.

Is the house on fire?" A shrug. A sideways pull of the lips. "Yes." "And you want to observe the handful of people who're screaming, Put it out, when everyone else is happy watching things burn.

Humankind is a thug. The law is a goon.

We live suspended between love and ego.