Quotes About Violence

When I search for Man in the technique and the style of Europe, I see only a succession of negations of man, and an avalanche of murders.

Bullies, oppressors and all men who do violence to the rights of others are guilty not only of their own crimes, but also of the corruption they bring into the hearts of their victims.

It is time we learnt that a terrorist is no man's friend and everyman's enemy.

The less reasonable a cult is, the more men seek to establish it by force.

Between the murder of an animal and the murder of a man, there's no more than ONE step!

It's, like, one of them drug dealer boats," Vic says, looking through his magic sight. "Five guys on it. Headed our way." He fires another round. "Correction. Four guys on it." Boom. "Correction, they're not headed our way anymore." Boom. A fireball erupts from the ocean two hundred feet away. "Correction. No boat.

Hiro watches the large, radioactive, spear-throwing killer drug lord ride his motorcycle into Chinatown. Which is the same as riding it into China, as far as chasing him down is concerned.

You have responsibilities, now, Bob. You must lose this naive understanding of violence! You are embarrassin' me in front of the lads! You can't play by their rules or they'll win unfailingly! You don't engage in courtly play-fightin' with one such as this. You get a great friggin' tree-branch and keep hittin' him with it until he dies.

In Memoriam, Louis Anglesey, Earl of Upnor, finest swordsman in England, beaten to death with a stick by an Irishman.' " Teague considered it for a moment, then nodded. "In Connaught," he added. "In Connaught," Bob agreed, then eyed the ditch.

Holding one of those things in your hands, cleaning the barrel and shoving the rounds into clips, really brings you face-to-face with what a desperate, last-ditch measure they really are. I mean, if it gets to the point where we are shooting at people and vice versa, then we have completely screwed up. So in the end, they only strengthened my interest in making sure we could do without them.

It's, like, one of them drug dealer boats, Vic says, looking through his magic site. Five guys on it. Headed our way. He fires another round. Correction. Four guys on it. Boom. Correction, they're not headed our way anymore. Boom. A fireball erupts from the ocean two hundred feet away. Correction. No boat.

In Memoriam, Louis Anglesey, Earl of Upnor, finest swordsman in England, beaten to death with a stick by an Irishman.

the ability to kill someone is basically a mental stance, and not a question of physical means; a serial killer armed with a couple of feet of clothesline is far more dangerous than a cheerleader with a bazooka.

Has anyone you know ever been ritually mutilated because they were seen reading a book?

He did not seem to grasp something that was clear enough to me and Cord: namely, that there were extras who would beat up avout simply because it was more entertaining than not beating them up—not because they subscribed to some ridiculous theory of what we were. He was assuming that rapscallions bothered to have theories.

You have responsibilities now, Bob. You must lose this naïve understanding of violence! You are embarrassin' me in front of the lads! You can't play by their rules or they'll win unfailingly! You don't engage in courtly play-fightin' with one such as this. You get a great friggin' tree-branch and keep hittin' him with it until he dies. Like that. D'you see, boys?

Well, land sakes! Hiro says. Lookee here! He whips his blade sideways, cutting off both of the businessman's forearms, causing the sword to clatter onto the floor. Better fire up the ol' barbeque, Jemima! Hiro continues, whipping the sword around sideways, cutting the businessman's body in half just above the navel. Then he leans down so he's looking right into the businessman's face. Didn't anyone tell you, he says, losing the dialect, that I was a hacker? Then he hacks the guy's head off.

Oh come on, you did it yourself when you saw the billboard at the airport. 'Ugh! Blue hair! How tasteless!' When you did that, you identified, you categorized that character as belonging to the Other. And once you have done that, attacking it, murdering it, becomes easier. Perhaps even an urgent need.

a serial killer armed with a couple of feet of clothesline is far more dangerous than a cheerleader with a bazooka.

Maybe we should start an institute on nonviolent terrorism." "Catchy. But if it's not violent, there's no terror involved.

It's, like, one of them drug dealer boats," Vic says, looking through his magic sight. "Five guys on it. Headed our way." He fires another round. "Correction. Four guys on it." Boom. "Correction, they're not headed our way anymore." Boom. A fireball erupts from the ocean two hundred feet away. "Correction. No boat.

Narcolombia, just about everything is a capital offense

Ah," Reagan says, raising his waxed and penciled eyebrows, and cocking his pompadour in Shaftoe's direction. "Smarrrt—you target them because they're the officers, right?" "No, fuckhead!" Shaftoe yells. "You kill 'em because they've got fucking swords! You ever had anyone running at you waving a fucking sword?

Battle changed men; that was part of why Francis preached so strenuously for nonviolent resolutions to conflict. Fighting your fellow man was bestial behavior—worse than beasts, in fact, for no wolf or bear assaulted kin for the specious reasons many nobleman and king clung to as their rationale for going to war.