Quotes About War

Woof," the dogman Nazi said.

The fucking angels of memory were out. They had come out of their museums, out of their castles. They'd gone to war against whatever this incoming to-come was. The very facts of retrospection and fate that had various sides fighting were now out themselves, personified or apotheosed and smacking seven bells out of each other directly No longer solely reasons, justifications, teloi, casus belli for others to invoke or believe in: now combatants. The war had just got meta.

Là dove il popolo partiva per la guerra, restavano sentieri amari… E tutto quell'universo di terrestre bellezza e di angosce, Danijar l'apriva davanti a me nel suo canto. Dove aveva imparato, da chi aveva avuto tutto ciò? Capivo che così può amare la sua terra solo chi per lunghi anni ha languito per essa, chi ha patito di questo amore. Quando la cantava, vedevo proprio lui, un povero ragazzetto, vagabondare per le strade della steppa.

In only a few hours, the ground turned red as though the skies had rained blood. What would happen by the end of the eighteen days?

I have not spoken in three years: not since I left boot camp. It has been three years of a senseless war, and though the reasons for it are clear, and though we will continue to fight until we are ordered to stop--and probably for a while after that--none of us can remember the hate that led us here. We are simply fighting to survive the war. It is a strange place to be at fifteen, bereft of hope and very nearly of your humanity. But that is where I am nonetheless.

In the old country my mother planted flowers in the face of my father's disdain. In every garden, in every house, no matter how long we lived there. I think it was the war, the Blitz in England, that took all the flowers. I think it was for the love she couldn't show him. I think it was for me. To show me that only the unspeakable remains.

More than ever, we ordinary civilians are the foot soldiers in the war on terrorism.

He recalls what that first German soldier said to his major: No God-not yours or mine-approves of what you're doing.

Wouldn't that be funny, if the oil rebels were playing U2 in their jungle camps, and the government soldiers were playing U2 in their trucks. I think everyone was killing everyone else and listening to the same music... That is a good trick about this world, Sarah. No one likes each other, but everyone likes U2.

I planned how I would kill myself in the time of Churchill (stand under bombs), Victoria (throw myself under a horse), and Henry the Eighth (marry Henry the Eighth)- Little Bee

This helpful war. It makes us better people and then it tries to kill us.

After the war of course it will be like the start of spring, which is always so brilliantly sudden. The leaves will burst back onto the trees and close the gaps between the branches and we shall be startled - shan't we? - s we are startled at the end of every winter. We shall think: oh, I had quite forgotten there were three livable seasons.

If the war had proved anything it was that life had unexpected resistance to the instruments with which men had been issued. Simonson

What was war, after all, but morale in helmets and jeeps? And what was morale if not one hundred million little conversations, the sum of which might leave men brave enough to advance? The true heart of war was in small talk.

The first problem of war was that no one was any good at it yet.

Here was the remainder of ten thousand educations, the bones drifted down to this depth. It was the fossil of one's country. She ached, because the war had cut the thin cord that bound each child to its ancestors with links made from cross-stitch and calligraphy.

Then I'm tempted to die just to … spite him." "That's the spirit that will win us the war.

You ever wonder why an East Eng girl like me hasn't got much in the way of family? Well here's the reasons Petra. World War 1. World War 2. Falklands War. Gulf War 1. Gulf War 2 and the War on Drugs. You can take your pick because I've lost whole bloody chunks of my family in all of them.

It was not the same as charging down a machine-gun nest armed only with a Bowie knife, or strapping in to the tail-gunner seat of a four-engined heavy bomber. And no one else would ever know, since one did not get a medal for letting go of a woman's hand on a gray Saturday morning in the middle of a European war. But to have faith—that a lover would be constant and life clement—this did require courage in a city more disposed to beginnings than safe continuations. As

There was less of him now. There was less of them all. Officers and men dragged themselves around in uniforms three sizes too big, new holes punched into every belt, every collar hanging loose. They were a garrison of skinny boys performing a play about soldiers.

Alistair smiled. 'How long this war has been.' 'I'll say. One hardly remembers how we lived before. Lightly - not worrying much.' 'Do you suppose we shall ever live that way again?' 'Oh, who knows? Given sufficient champagne and ether.' 'Maybe if we stay drunk to the end of our days we shan't remember.

She knew, now, why her father had not spoken of the last war, nor Alistair of his. It was hardly fair on the living.

I suppose we ought to be getting home, in any case." "Oh god, is it wartime already?" "Look on the bright side: it'll be dinner when we get back.

How could he even attempt it, after eight days and nights of bombing? And yet this is when he must write: now, in the lull between attacks...War made one do everything when one wasn't at all ready. Dying, yes, but also living.