Quotes About Conflict

principles have become more dangerous than passions. It's getting uncommonly easy to kill people in large numbers, and the first thing a principle does—if it really is a principle—is to kill somebody." "'The real tragedy is not the conflict of good with evil but of good with good'; that means a problem with no solution.

Mr. Copley, feeling as though his head were filled with hard knobs of spinning granite that crashed with sickening thuds against his brainpan, walked stiffly away to his own quarters. As

They knew, with the painful conviction of experience, what it meant to say, "I see and approve the better, but follow the worse.

If I had a shiny gun I could have a world of fun Speeding bullets through the brains Of the folks that cause me pains :)

As we will see below, when a female slave's role as worker conflicted with that of childbearer, concern for high productivity often outweighed concern for high fertility.

Peace is not the absence of conflict but the presence of creative alternatives for responding to conflict -- alternatives to passive or aggressive responses, alternatives to violence.

Peace is not the absence of conflict but the presence of creative alternatives for responding to conflict

If I ever meet myself,' said Zaphod, 'I'll hit myself so hard I won't know what's hit me.

I think we have different value systems. —Arthur Well mine's better. —Ford

Ford looked at him severely. And no sneaky knocking down Mr Dent's house whilst he's away, alright? he said. The mere thought, growled Mr Prosser, hadn't even begun to speculate, he continued, settling himself back, about the merest possibility of crossing my mind.

It's part of the shape of the Universe. I only have to talk to somebody and they begin to hate me.

The party and the Krikkit warship looked, in their writhings, a little like two ducks, one of which is trying to make a third duck inside the second duck, whilst the second duck is trying very hard to explain that it doesn't feel ready for a third duck right now, is uncertain that it would want any putative third duck anyway, and certainly not whilst it, the second duck, was busy flying.

On the wall was a Duran Duran poster on which someone had scrawled in fat red felt tip, Take this down please. Beneath that another hand had scrawled, No. Beneath that again the first hand had written, I insist that you take it down. Beneath that the second hand had written, Won't! Beneath that - You're fired. Beneath that - Good! And there the matter appeared to have rested.

Marvin started his ironical humming again. Zaphod hit him and he shut up.

So you can imagine what happens when a mainland species gets introduced to an island. It would be like introducing Al Capone, Genghis Khan, and Rupert Murdoch into the Isle of Wight—the locals wouldn't stand a chance.

Look, don't you understand? shouted Arthur. He pointed at Prosser. That man wants to knock my house down! Ford glanced at him, puzzled. Well he can do it while you're away, can't he? he asked. But I don't want him to! Ah.

She had nearly said, "Over what?," but at that moment she realized that if she said that she would have to listen to his reply, which would be bound to infuriate her into arguing back. It occurred to her for the first time that the only way of escaping was just not to get drawn into these arguments. If she simply did not respond this time, then she was free to leave. She tried it. She felt a sudden freedom. She left. A week later, in much the

Plenty of people didn't care for him much, but there is a huge difference between disliking somebody - maybe even disliking them a lot - and actually shooting them, strangling them, dragging them through the fields and setting their house on fire. It was a difference which kept the vast majority of the population alive from day to day.

I think it's even worse when you're in a situation where the object of your desire is being nice to you and liking you, but that's not enough, they've got to hate you or love you; anything in between is really upsetting and Arthur finds that very, very difficult. And

who cursed and swore at him from a moral high ground that cyclists alone seem able to inhabit.

It meant that the silently waged conflict between himself and his cleaning lady had escalated to a new and more frightening level. It was now, Dirk reckoned, fully three months since this fridge door had been opened, and each of them was grimly determined not to be the one to open it first.

Plenty of people didn't care for him much, but there is a huge difference between disliking somebody—maybe even disliking them a lot—and actually shooting them, strangling them, dragging them through the fields and setting their house on fire. It was a difference which kept the vast majority of the population alive from day to day.

His wife of course wanted climbing roses, but he wanted axes. He didn't know why—he just liked axes. He flushed hotly under the derisive grins of the bulldozer drivers. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, but it was equally uncomfortable on each. Obviously somebody had been appallingly incompetent and he hoped to God it wasn't him.

Look, don't you understand?" shouted Arthur. He pointed at Prosser. "That man wants to knock my house down!" Ford glanced at him, puzzled. "Well, he can do it while you're away, can't he?" he asked. "But I don't want him to!