Quotes About Battle

Everything is a contest. All dealings among men are a contest in which some will succeed and others fail. And some are failing quite spectacularly.

That's what war is," Cobb told me. "A bunch of sorry, desperate fools on both sides, just trying to stay alive. That's the part that those stories you love leave out, isn't it? It's always more convenient when you can fight a dragon. Something you don't have to worry you'll start caring about.

He fought as he wished he had all those years ago, for the chance he had missed. In that moment between storms--when the rain stilled and the winds drew in their breaths to blow--he danced with the slayer of kings, and somehow held his own.

Hello! Would you like to destroy some evil today?

Everyone gets scared, Princess. Even brave men sometimes run the first time they see battle. In armies, that's why there's so much training. The ones who hold aren't the courageous ones, they're the well-trained ones. We have instincts like any other animal.

You ask why I smile, Goodman Mennis? Well, the Lord Ruler thinks he has claimed laughter and joy for himself. I'm disinclined to let him do so. This is one battle that doesn't take very much effort to fight.

For a moment, it was just him. Him and the wind. He fought with her, and she laughed.

Men like you preach change, but I wonder. Is this a battle we can really fight?" "You're fighting it already, Goodman Mennis. You're just losing horribly.

If you can read the book and say, 'Space Marines, YEEEAAAHHH!' That's Military Science Fiction." (Brigham Young writing lecture, March 2012)

In Kaladin's eyes, there was no sin greater than the betrayal of one's allies in battle. Except, perhaps, for the betrayal of one's own men—of murdering them after they risked their lives to protect you.

Yelling a battle cry—more to motivate himself than frighten his foes—Lukel grabbed the table leg and swung it at a soldier. The wood bounced off the man's helmet, but the blow was powerful enough to daze him, so Lukel followed it with a solid blow to the face. The soldier dropped and Lukel grabbed his weapon. Now he had a sword. He only wished he knew how to use it.

She stuck her tongue out at him. A totally rational and reasonable way to fight a demigod.

Battle was a masculine art. A woman wanting to come to the battlefield was like... well, like a man wanting to read. Unnatural.

You want to fight a god? You'd better have one on your side too.

During those days of sorrow, it´s the aged soldier -the one who was bowed by the battle- who can stand and protect the weak".

Pride doesn't win battles.

Kaladin floated downward toward him. "Ten spears go to battle," he whispered, "and nine shatter. Did that war forge the one that remained? No, Amaram. All the war did was identify the spear that would not break.

The baking thing is an actual tradition," Wit added. "I once visited a place where—if you lose a battle—your mother has to bake the other fellow something tasty. I rather liked those people." "Pity you didn't remain with them longer," Dalinar said. "Ha! Well, I didn't think it wise to stay around. After all, they were cannibals.

It happens in the epilogues. The stories after the stories. Warriors who have fought return home, but find they no longer belong. The battle has changed them, warped them, to the point where they are strangers. They protected the society they love, but in doing so, made themselves into something that could never again belong to it.

Behold!" I bellowed. "'Tis a foul beast of the nether-hells. Stand behind me and I shall slay it!" "Oh, Alcatraz," Bastille breathed. "Thou art awesomish and manlyish.

I was wrong though. The hike was longer than I had remembered, and I did manage to get lost. So I was wandering down there, imagining the glory of the awesome battle happening above, when my father infamously broke ranks and fled from the enemy. His own flight shot him down in retribution. By the time I got home, the battle had been won, my father was gone. And I'd been branded the daughter of a coward.

My life wasn't just about one city, or one Epic, anymore. It was about a war. It was about finding a way to stop the Epics. Permanently.

Sangre. El hedor de los cuerpos ardiendo. Al final, la derrota y la victoria tenían el mismo olor. Pero sonaban distinto.

Morningtide's Poco pulled upward into a loop—trailed by three Krell ships. Almost there. Almost there! The Krell destructors flared. Hit. Hit again. And then… A burst of light. A spray of sparks. And Morningtide died in a massive explosion. She didn't have a chance to eject.