Quotes About Soldier

Because in a time of financial crisis like the present, money is what ammunition is to a soldier in a hostile country - don't let's waste our powder.

You must not go there in too anemic or enervated a condition, if you set a value on coming out of it stronger. I do not consider it a great misfortune for you to be obliged to be a soldier, but rather as a very serious trial from which you will emerge - if you emerge at all - a very great artist.

a soldier lives always for the next battle, because he knows that before it arrives impossible changes can occur in his favor.

Where the battle rages, there the loyalty of the soldier is proved.

The first virtue in a soldier is endurance of fatigue courage is only the second virtue.

I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible and die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his honour and that of his country, Victory or death.

My Guardian is the Planet of Silence. Soldier Of Death and Rebirth Sailor Saturn! - Hotaru as Sailor Saturn

Every soldier in the course of time exists only in the breath of written word.

Honer and self sacrifice. Death does not diminish these qualities in a soldier. We shall remember.

There is no one who loves peace more than a soldier

I have a longing for you, Lady Elizabeth Grey, that I have never felt for any woman before. Will you come to me? I ask it not as a king, and not even as a soldier who might die in battle, but as a simple man to the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. Come to me, I beg you, come to me. It could be my last wish. Will you come to me tonight?

Nothing could be more important than that the work of a soldier is well done. No tools will make a man a skilled workmen, or master of defense, or be of any use to him who has not learned how to handle them and has never bestowed any attention on them.

And the dusk, the gritty Southern grayness of it, its harsh gathering, stopped Joe Howard from seeing out beyond the solitude of his own reflection, a soldier's reflection: dark hair, a trimmed mustache, eyes he didn't bother looking into, and farther down from them, the ghostly shadow of a khaki uniform, of lieutenant's bars and a medal. There was no brain, no blood, no bone, no friend called L. C. Hoover sprayed all over this Joe Howard Wilson—at least not anymore.

Once a man has lived under arms, I suspect he is marked for life.In fact I have heard it remarked that old soldiers never die; they just fade away.

and in fact, he was, but…" He cleared his throat, and Ian reached into his pack and handed him a battered flask. Dark as it was, he felt the crude fleur-de-lis under his thumb. It was Ian Mòr's old soldier's flask, which his friend had kept from their time in France as young mercenaries, and the feel of it steadied him.

It was going to be a bloody business, on both sides. He didn't like the thought but didn't shy away from it. It was war, and he was—once again—a soldier.

Major MacDonald," he replied, with

Then a skeleton came out from among the trees. It was the skeleton of a Union soldier, though the uniform it wore was so ragged and filthy it was difficult to identify. The sunken cheeks were covered with a thin scattering of fuzz; the hair was lank and matted. It fell over the skeleton's forehead and down into its eyes

When I tried to sing by myself, I felt sad and empty, for inevitably my father's favorite songs came to me, and before I got to "und auf den Wiesen blühen die Blümelein rot und blau" (and on the meadows bloom the little flowers red and blue), I had to hide and cry. He was buried somewhere in France, and I was sure no one had planted a flower on his resting place. Who would have, for a soldier who had fought for Hitler?

You're a good model for a German soldier, except for the hair. You look as though you once had a thought in your head and that's hard to find.

Wynne carried Smoky to the lawn outside, where he propped her into a GI helmet, to recreate the winning Yank Magazine image for the Red Cross photographer. But Smoky's tongue was hanging out exhaustedly, and it struck Wynne that she looked more like a dog-tired, war bitten soldier, than what she had been back then - namely, the gift that never stopped giving.

Time seemed to slow down and stretch out, like a quiet, slow passage in a piece of music. It occurred to me then that I could never be a soldier. The waiting would kill me. It's ironic, I know. I can spend months on a work, whole weeks minutely carving some tiny part of it. I am obsessive with detail, and never care how long it takes to get something perfect, because the success of the whole might depend on one small part.

We were arguing about it when all of a sudden some funny-looking guy marched into our classroom. He was all dressed up in a fancy army uniform. He had a white wig on his head and a sword in his hand. "To be prepared for war is the best way to keep the peace!" the army guy said. Then he marched out of the classroom.

Left! Right! Left! Right!