Quotes About War

Some people misunderstand evil and believe it will relent, and because their misplaced hope inspires dark hearts to dream darker dreams, they are the fathers and mothers of all wars. Evil does not relent; it must be defeated. And even when defeated, uprooted, and purified by fire, evil leaves behind a seed that will one day germinate and, in blooming, again be misunderstood.

War," Pax said, "either dulls the mind to despair or sharpens it toward intuitive truths.

Hands of Mercy and tanks of hell.

In the war, to survive, you had to be responsible every minute of every day, unhesitatingly responsible for yourself, for your every action. You had to be responsible for your buddies, too, because survival wasn't something that could be achieved alone. That's maybe the one positive thing about fighting in a war - it clarifies your thinking and makes you realize that a sense of responsibility is what separates good men from the damned.

The war had left his body pathetically damaged and weak, but his mind was as strong and clear as it had ever been, perhaps even tempered and made stronger by adversity. That , not madness, was his curse.

It's a war. Mistake a war for an adventure, you won't live long.

Every year in this war and that, even in our own cities, countless children are killed, while those who spray the bullets—or plant the roadside bomb, authorize the use of nerve gas, send the drone with the Hellfire missile that strikes the wrong target—shed not a tear, referring to those tender deceased as mere "collateral damage," if they acknowledge

It's not tragedy, the way they report it, not horror, certainly not war reporting. It's all spectacle, and once you let yourself see it that way, your soul begins to turn to dust.

But in war, you do the right thing, whatever it takes, and if you come out alive, you know how easy you could have screwed up, so bragging on it is dead-solid wrong. Only assholes do that.

I once read that during the Civil War women of the south would soak these cloth buttons in perfume and then sew them into the collars of their men's shirts. That way the scent was a constant reminder of their loved ones waiting for them at home.

Afghans love beautiful things, but we have seen so much ugliness, we sometimes forget how wonderful a thing like a flower is

You must value something highly to go to war to improve it

This peculiar connexion between a certain view of woman and the European conception of war has had profound consequences for morality, education, and politics.

Once upon a time there was a war...and a young American who thought of himself as the Quiet American and the Ugly American, and who wished to be neither, who wanted instead to be the Wise American, or the Good American, but who eventually came to witness himself as the Real American and finally as simply the Fucking American. That's me.

War is ninety percent myth anyway, isn't it? In order to prosecute our own wars we raise them to the level of human sacrifice, don't we, and we constantly invoke our God. It's got to be about something bigger than dying, or we'd all turn deserter.

The Americans won't win. They're not fighting for their homeland. They just want to be good. In order to be good, they just have to fight awhile and then leave.

War is ninety percent myth anyway, isn't it? In order to prosecute our own wars we raise them to the level of human sacrifice, don't we, and we constantly invoke our God. It's got to be about something bigger than dying, or we'd all turn deserter. I think we need to be much more conscious of that. I think we need to be invoking the other fellow's gods too.

Well, you were sad about the kids for a while, for a month, two months, three months. You're sad about the kids, sad about the animals, you don't do the women, you don't kill the animals, but after that you realize this is a war zone and everybody here lives in it. You don't care whether these people live or die tomorrow, you don't care whether you yourself live or die tomorrow, you kick the children aside, you do the women, you shoot the animals.

News had reached his ears that they planned to distribute mixtures alongside Route One and Route Twenty-two to kill the vegetation there. Depriving ambushers of cover was a good idea, he thought. But this was the loveliest country on the earth. Sorrow and war lay all over it, true, but the sickness of sorrow had never before penetrated the land itself. He didn't like to see it poisoned.

He'd come to war to see abstractions become realities. Instead he'd seen the reverse. Everything was abstract now.

History alone looks upon war as a grand achievement; all else look upon it as a dreadful last resort.

There's a bar around the corner. Lemme buy you a drink before the war.

Call them gooks, call them niggers, call them kikes, micks, spics, wops, or frogs, call them whatever you want as long as you call them something—anything—that removes one layer of human being from their bodies when you think of them. That's the goal. If you can do that, you can get kids to cross oceans to kill other kids, or you can get them to stay right here at home and do the same thing.

Dio ama la violenza. Tu capisci, non è così? Altrimenti perché ce ne sarebbe così tanta? La violenza è dentro di noi. Sgorga da noi. È la cosa che ci viene più naturale, prima ancora di respirare. Noi scateniamo guerre. Pratichiamo sacrifici. Saccheggiamo e straziamo le carni dei nostri fratelli. Riempiamo campi immensi di morti, della loro puzza. E perché? Per mostrare a Lui che abbiamo imparato dal Suo esempio.