Quotes About Conflict

A good chunk of my life had been spent sorting out the scrambled communications, festering hostilities, and frozen affections that characterized families in turmoil. (257)

I was sad Jon Ronson, who wrote in the Guardian and has made a TV show for Channel 4, took against me.

human beings as a species have never failed to find reasons to regard one another with fear and loathing and thus to offer violence to one another.

To the resentment that hides inside love, to the loneliness that hides among companions.

I'm tightly wound. I'm a loose cannon. Both - I'm a tightly wound loose cannon, a tight loose.

If you were born in a country or at a time not only when nobody comes to kill your wife and your children, but also nobody comes to ask you to kill the wives and children of others, then render thanks to God and go in peace. But always keep this thought in mind: you might be luckier than I, but you're not a better person.

If you ever managed to make me cry, my tears would sear your face.

both deaths were equally vain, neither of them shortened the war by so much as a second; but in both cases, the man or men who killed them believed it was just and necessary; and if they were wrong, who's to blame? What

A ty zabija?e? ludzi"?.-"Raz musia?em dobija?. Ale zazwyczaj zajmowa?em si? wywiadem, pisa?em raporty".-"A co czu?e?, jak strzela?e? do tych ludzi?". Odpowiedzia?em bez wachania: "To samo, co czu?em, patrz?c, jak inni strzelaj?. Gdy istnieje taka konieczno??, staje si? niewa?ne, kto to robi. Poza tym uwa?am, ?e patrz??, ponosz? tak? sam? odpowiedzialno?? jak ci, co strzelaj?".

Volevo semplicemente augurarle di sopravvivere a questa guerra per risvegliarsi fra vent'anni, ogni notte, urlando. Spero che lei non riesca a guardare i suoi figli senza vedere i nostri che ha assassinato.

Fin dagli albori della storia umana, la guerra è sempre stata considerata il male più grande. Ma noi avevamo inventato qualcosa al cui confronto la guerra finiva per sembrare pulita e pura.

Jeho situaci jsem mu nezávid?l: být na sv?t? sám je n?kdy lepší, a ve válce obzvláš?.

There are men for whom war, or even murder, is a solution, but I am not one of them; for me, as for most people, war and murder are a question, a question without an answer, for when you cry out in the night, no one answers.

Guilt and rage, hatred and fear were pathways to weakness and clumsy choices.

Rage was sometimes a useful ally in the heat of a fight, but it was a trickster. It made everything seem possible.

So, basically if we keep trying to save the country and maybe the world from a bunch of murderous assholes with outer space weapons, then we're the bad guys?" "In a nutshell." "Then, hey ... let's be bad guys.

I don't want to kill you and you don't want to be dead.

I did not and do not want my life tied up in cloak-and-dagger bullshit, dead guys, or pissing contests with either the testosterone crowd in there or some prissy-assed Earl Grey-drinking, scone-munching major who isn't even my freaking boss. I don't know you and I don't give a rat's ass if you trust me.

There was a lot of animosity on the County side, a lot of jealously.

I don't do martial arts for trophies or for fun. I'm a fighter, and I train to win any fight I'm in. I don't believe in rules and I don't believe in fair fights. You want a fair fight, join a boxing club. I also don't believe in dying for my country. I have a kind of General Patton take on that: I think the other guy should die for his.

It is universally better to obey God than Man when the laws of God and Man clash and interfere with one another.

Norm protesting his innocence and grassing Dave up himself. Who was his dad going to believe? Him or his stupid little brother? No, his dad had obviously made his mind up and nothing was going to change it. Norm was guilty. Same as flipping always.

Alexis was at that age, seventeen, when mothers come into view as tyrants or imbeciles or both.

It's hard to imagine two personalities less alike than the pair who shared Ulysses Maxwell's mind. Where Lyssy was sunny and outgoing, as friendly and disingenuous as a puppy dog, Max was brooding and saturnine, with a sardonic wit and the compassion of a starving alley cat—if they hadn't occupied the same body, he'd have strangled the cheerful little bastard years ago.