Quotes About Battle

Cut the attacker down, to cut them down to their very soul

Every war is a murderous struggle between foes. And yet, no army has ever marched into battle thinking that the Creator had sided with their enemy.

You either had to fight evil as you encountered it, or evil would come to control your life.

She had thought she could make a difference. She had thought she could drive back the advancing horde—by the sheer weight of her will, if need be. It was arrogance on her part. The forces of freedom were lost.

The tightly focused battle was an orgy of slaughter. Limbs, heads, and parts of bodies from men and women alike littered the ground.

The ground was soaked with blood. What had been Clovis was no longer remotely recognizable. His jaw was shattered and hung completely unhinged to the side. One eye socket had been altogether caved in. Oba's knee had broken the man's sternum and crushed his chest. It was glorious.

wire-wound hilt greeted his fingers. The sword lay on the ground beside him.

much the same as you men are strong and can wield a heavy battle-axe, whereas an old man could not. Even though you have the muscle to do this, that doesn't mean that your muscles can do what they aren't meant to do, such as exercise wisdom the old man has from his experience. He may defeat you in battle through his knowledge, rather than his muscle.

There is no mercy when fighting the Keeper.

It was sad music. But it waved its sadness like a battle flag. It said the universe had done all it could, but you were still alive.

He's probably their battle poet, too. You mean he makes up heroic songs about famous battles? No, no. He recites poems that frighten the enemy....When a well-trained gonnagle starts to recite, the enemy's ears explode.

Moist waited. Lord Vetinari could outstare a statue and make even a statue start to feel nervous and confess. Moist's counter was a fetching grin, which he knew annoyed Vetinari beyond measure, and there was absolute silence in the Oblong Office while blank stare and cheery grin battled it out for supremacy in some other dimension.

I never understood that story, anyway," said Nanny. "I mean, if I knew I'd got a heel that would kill me if someone stuck a spear in it, I'd go into battle wearing very heavy boots—

According to the history books, the decisive battle that ended the Ankh-Morpork Civil War was fought between two handfuls of bone-weary men in a swamp early one misty morning and, although one side claimed victory, ended with a practical score of Humans 0, ravens 1,000, which is the case with most battles.

The point is not to avoid the war, it is to win it.

What the gods said was heard by each combatant in his own language, and according to his own understanding. It boiled down to: I. This is Not a Game. II. Here and Now, You are Alive.

Even the pious Scots, locked throughout history in a long-drawn-out battle with their arch-enemies the Scots, managed a few burnings to while away the long winter evenings.

In fact the Gods were as puzzled by all this as the wizards were, but they were powerless to do anything and in any case were engaged in an eons-old battle with the Ice Giants, who had refused to return the lawnmower.

Bein' a soldier is not hard! If it was, soldiers would not be able to do it! There is only three things you need to remember, which are, viz: one obey orders two give it to the enemy good and hard three don't die.

And now I demand that you do what the ignorant might feel is the easier thing. You must refrain from dying in battle. Revenge is not redress. Revenge is a wheel, and it turns backwards. The dead are not your masters.

He'd been a successful soldier, as these things went; he'd generally been on the winning side, and had killed more of the enemy by good if dull tactics than his own men by bad but exciting ones.

It is forbidden to fight on the Killing Ground, he said, and paused while he considered the sense of this. You know what I mean anyway...

Let the Queen do the fighting cos if you lose the King, you've lost everything.

Well, these guys believe that if you die in battle, some big fat singing horned women carry you off to a sort of giant feast hall where you gobble yourself silly for the rest of eternity, said the rave. It belched genteeley. Damn stupid idea, really. But it just happened! Still a daft idea.