Quotes About War

The whole experience of being hit by a bullet is very interesting and I think worth describing in detail.

Being in Russia filming War & Peace...filming War & Peace alone is an extraordinary experience, but to be out there was just magical.

A nation that is unfit to fight cannot, from experience, prove the virtue of not fighting.

...his wartime experience had taught him to trust his instincts, even though he'd never been sure where they'd come from.

The Vietnam War totally turned my life around. Some people's lives were eliminated or destroyed by the experience. I was one of the fortunate few who came out better off.

The failure to dissect the cause of war leaves us open for the next installment.

War is failure of diplomacy.

War represents the supreme failure of nations to resolve their differences. From a strictly pragmatic standpoint, it is the most inefficient waste of lives and resources ever conceived.

War remains the decisive human failure.

War is primarily not about victory or defeat but about death and the infliction of death. It represents the total failure of the human spirit.

The world today is so full of violence, obscenity, war, the failure of political systems. I try to make movies that make people a bit more confident. But that doesn't mean being sugary.

My religious faith remains in possession of the field only after prolonged civil war with my naturally skeptical mind.

Your state of mind today will be your state of life tomorrow. Trust in a brighter future and it will come your way. When at war with yourself, you're more likely to start a war with others. Create peace within yourself to make peace with those around you.

Odysseus shrugged. "There are many ways to start a war. I always think raiding makes a good beginning. It accomplishes almost the same thing as diplomacy, but with greater profit.

No habría ningún tipo de guerras si los soldados matasen únicamente a quienes les han hecho una ofensa personal, Pelida. —

War has always seemed to me a foolish choice for men. Whatever they win from it, they will have only a handful of years to enjoy before they die. More likely they will perish trying.

Men will hear of your skill, and they will wish for you to fight their wars." He paused. "What will you answer?" "I do not know," Achilles said. "That is an answer for now. It will not be good enough later," Chiron said.

It was a strange time. Over us, every second, hung the terror of Schilles' destiny, while the murmurs of war among the gods grew louder. But even I could not fill each minute with fear. I have heard that men who live by a waterfall cease to hear it-in such a way did I learn to live beside the rushing torrent of his doom. The days passed, and he lived. The months passed, and I could go a whole day without looking over the precipice of his death. The miracle of a year, then two.

I learned to sleep through the day so that I would not be tired when he returned; he always needed to talk then, to tell me down to the last detail about the faces and the wounds and the movements of men. And I wanted to be able to listen, to digest the bloody images, to paint them flat and unremarkable onto the vase of posterity. To release him from it and make him Achilles again.

War has always seemed to me a foolish choice for men. Whatever they win from it, they will have only a handful of years to enjoy before they die. Most likely they will perish trying.

Madeline Miller

They have wrinkles, but no wisdom. I took them to war before they could do any of those things that steady a man. They were unmarried when they left. They had no children. They had no years of lean harvest, when they must scrape the bottom of their stores, and no good years either, that they might learn to save. They have not seen their parents grow old and begin to fail. They have not seen them die. I fear I have robbed them not only of their youth but their age as well.

Si chaque soldat ne tuait que les ennemis qui l'ont personnellement offensé, Pelides, il n'y aurait aucune guerre

All around me are men carrying fallen comrades, limping on makeshift crutches, or crawling through the sand, dragging broken limbs behind them. I know them—their torsos full of scars my ointments have packed and sealed. Their flash that my fingers have cleaned or iron and bronze and blood. Their faces that have joked, thanked, grimaced as I worked over them. Now these men are ruined again, pulpy with blood and split bone. Because of him. Because of me.