Quotes About Conflict

There's some of them'll be nursing a guid scratch or two on their hinder-ends this night.… Man, it was a rout.' 'I imagine,' said Piero Strozzi, his dark face impassive, 'that my lord Grey's army would not relish their defeat either.' 'Oh, aye, the English,' said Buccleuch absently. 'We are, after all, at war with them and not with the Kerrs,' the Marshal said mildly.

He didn't always tell his father when it happened, because the old man's face turned mottled blue over his doublet, and unless Will got in first, he would send a runner round all the estates, and the threshing would stop while grousing, reluctant men straggled back for their pikes and swords and mail shirts, taking a long time about it, waiting for Buccleuch the Younger to come up, furious on his sweating horse, and tell them curtly to get back to the fields.

If you were a dear, good little wife, Janet,' had said Lymond, 'you'd fall into a mortal decline that day, or at least hide his boots.' 'Francis Crawford, are ye daft! What ever kept a Scott from a fight? Women? Boots? If yon one were deid, he'd spend his time in Heaven sclimming up and down the Pearly Gates peppering Kerrs.

The trouble about Mr Crawford,' said Kate, 'is that he puts up with his enemies and plays merry hell with his friends.

They play at gods,' said Piedar Dooly, and spat. 'French and English alike. Gods out of hell would you say, harrowing green land for their tennis courts and dressing lapdogs in treasure that would keep half Ireland in bread for a year. The heroes of Tara would have put them face to schisty face and used them for millstones.

The prospect of watching the Crawford family at grips with itself was something that, blissfully, he wanted very much for his birthday.

Then she said, Thorfinn! quickly, and moved to him; but had hardly got to his side before he loosed his fingers and thumbs and plunged them down to the mattress like spear-points. No!Macbeth. Macbeth. Macbeth! the name reached her like sling-shot. Groa said, They are the same man. I should know. I married both.

What's poor Richard ever done to you except get himself born first?" The blue eyes were speculative. "Ill-calculated," he agreed. "But not necessarily final.

Jerott's voice was stony. 'I am prepared to go wherever I can be of most help. I meant only that I expect to be too occupied to give the attention I ought to Mile Marthe's safety. I think M. Gaultier should come with us.' 'Then who,' said Lymond agreeably, 'do you suggest looks after the spinet?' 'Onophrion?' 'Jerott,' said Lymond, with the thinnest edge beginning to show in his voice.

I dislike untidy wars, as I dislike untidy peacemaking.

Don't wrest from me my repentance. A whoremonger, a haunter of stews, a hypocrite, a wretch and a maker of strife.

Two men who dislike each other never notice the third on their backs.

Religion in recent years has become a political sport, and politicians are more skilful than honest men at extracting themselves from disasters.

It is not easy for Brehons to decide concerning bees that have taken up their lodging in the trees of a noble dignitary; with respect to which it is not easy to cut the tree.

Marthe said, her face streaked and silvered with tears, "I could not have done that. I fear nothing and no one. I respect nothing and no one. But I could not have done that." "You have done it," Jerott said. "It is easy to do it, out of hatred. But you are right. I know of no one else on earth who could have done it out of love.

I do not know whether this man is a traitor or not, but he is an individualist, and in war the two are the same.

It was to be expected that when he became in turn a leader of men, Francis should prove hard on others; should observe no laws; should fight, regardless of method, for victory.

The carrying voice of Alec Guthrie said unexpectedly, 'But as Sir Graham has already pointed out, every practising Christian must serve two masters.' 'My God … I know it,' said Lymond. 'My nerves are on edge like a Dublin butcher over the conversation as it is. The situation is that Sir Graham's other Master and I are in perfect accord; whereas, being human, I am not convinced that Sir Graham and I should necessarily be.

I've been in Scotland more lately than any of you. I tell you, there are twenty sides in that fight, never mind two, and when they get tired throwing things at each other, they'll all turn and stamp on the mediator.

Philippa … release me from my promise.' She put her hands over her mouth, and then took them away. 'I can't. I can't.' He had pulled his own hands down, looking still at the stool, his face quite turned away. 'You can. Philippa. Please let me go.'

Thomas, first Baron Wharton of Wharton, sat in his chair. "Boy," he said. "Listen to me, and learn the first lesson of man, the political animal. When you wage war, you wage it for ever. When war is over, it has never existed...

She may be hoping for Lug of the Long Arms but what she has is the family Crawford, qui peut de tous bois faire flèches in order to sit in the butts and shoot hearty rounds at each other.

Boy,' he said. 'Listen to me, and learn the first lesson of man, the political animal. When you wage war, you wage it for ever. When war is over, it has never existed. There is a truce, and there will shortly be a peace between England and Scotland. Crawford of Lymond is the Queen's friend, and my friend, and your friend.

Let us save everyone's faces,' Lymond said, 'while we can. And before Master Buchanan is hurled to the floor by either Nicolas or a thunderbolt from the late Copernicus.