Quotes About Soldier

The Empire was the world. All that lay beyond was chaos and misery and struggle and strife. I was a soldier. I could fight.

Seeing the open pits in the open air, among farms, is the wonder, and seeing the bodies twist free from the soil. The sight of a cleaned clay soldier upright in a museum case is unremarkable, and this is all that future generations will see. No one will display those men crushed beyond repair; no one will display their loose parts; no one will display them crawling from the walls. Future generations will miss the crucial sight of ourselves as rammed earth.

A modern soldier returning from combat—or a survivor of Sarajevo—goes from the kind of close-knit group that humans evolved for, back into a society where most people work outside the home, children are educated by strangers, families are isolated from wider communities, and personal gain almost completely eclipses collective good.

I might not like the fact that you are my commander, Greek, but as a soldier I will obey you regardless of my personal distaste for your company. (Valerius) Gee, T-Red, doesn't it make you all warm and fuzzy just to be near him? (Talon)

You really don't care for torture, do you? (Medea) No, I don't. It's one thing to strike out in anger, another to cause agony for the hell of it. I'm a soldier, not a coward. (Stryker)

I'm not Sisyphus trying to restrain death. Illyria is a soldier. If it's her time, it's her time. I'm not at war with Atropos. It's her will to take us whenever she likes. My only goal is to die with dignity. (Stryker)

The patient and active virtues of a soldier are insensibly nursed in the habits and discipline of a pastoral life.

I learned about life before I went into the theater, which is why I've been so happy. I was a soldier.

I am a soldier and accustomed to risking my life every day. I am full of the fire of youth; I cannot act with the restraint of an accomplished diplomat.

The musket made the infantryman and the infantryman made the democrat.

My leg hurts," the soldier whined. "Of course it does," Halt told him. "I put an arrow through it. Did you expect it not to hurt?

My leg hurts," the soldier whined. "Of course it does," Halt told him. "I put an arrow through it. Did you expect it not to hurt?

War is personal, kid. You're surrounded by other soldiers, but you're fundamentally alone. Every combat soldier will tell you the same. You pull the trigger, and a man dies. You paint a tree with his brains or spill his guts out in the mud. The how of it don't signify, except in the nightmares, maybe, or what you see in the mirror first time you find the courage to look.

ANDERSONVILLE DIARY JOHN H. RANSOM, LATE FIRST SERGEANT NINTH MICH. CAV., AUTHOR AND PUBLISHER, 1881

He was a bad son, a bad husband and a bad king, but a gallant and splendid soldier.

Every soldier knew that courage and foolhardiness were close companions in some situations,

Paks, if you've got a fault it's that you're too willing to be ruled. I know what you'll say—you'll say that's how a good soldier is.

By the winter of 1916, German civilians were starving, even starving to death. Unless the war ended very soon, Germany faced catastrophe even if not a single Allied soldier advanced another step.

Howard Coffin, president of the Society of Automotive Engineers, declared, "Twentieth-century war demands that the blood of the soldier must be mingled with three to five parts of the sweat of the men in the factories, mills, mines, and fields of the nation in arms"—

Život ztratil význam. Kdyby aspo? svitla nad?je na válku nebo povstání, jenže sv?tová situace se v posledních letech uklid?ovala. Což samo o sob? je dobré, ale pro profesionálního vojáka to zna?í nezam?stnanost.

Lo cierto, piensa el joven mientras camina por semejante cementerio, es que no hay nada bello ni romántico en un soldado muerto. Eso queda para las pinturas de los museos, los versos de los poetas y la demagogia de los políticos. La realidad inmediata sólo es carne muerta, carroña pudriéndose al sol.

Tal vez su condición de viejo soldado —había peleado en Flandes y el Mediterráneo tras escapar de la escuela para alistarse como paje y tambor a los trece años— dejó impresa en él aquella manera tan suya de encajar el riesgo, los malos tragos, las incertidumbres y sinsabores de una vida bronca, difícil, con el estoicismo de quien se acostumbra a no esperar otra cosa.

o era el hombre más honesto ni el más piadoso, pero era un hombre valiente. Se llamaba Diego Alatriste y Tenorio, y había luchado como soldado de los tercios viejos en las guerras de Flandes.

In August 1947 on the cusp of Independence, my parents sat in the United Services Club in London with two friends, soldier comrades from the recent war. One of them – later to become a chief of the Indian army – raised his glass to the other – who became a general and diplomat in Pakistan. He said, "Let us drink to the aborted twins!" Attia records this with a sense of horror and disbelief.