Quotes About Violence

Reader! Bruder! What a foolish Hamburg that Hamburg was! Since his supersensitive system was loath to face the actual scene, he thought he could at least enjoy a secret part of it—which reminds one of the tenth or twentieth soldier in the raping queue who throws the girl's black shawl over her white face so as not to see those impossible eyes while taking his military pleasure in the sad, sacked village.

I now wondered if Valechka (as the colonel called her) was really worth shooting, or strangling, or drowning. She had very vulnerable legs, and I decided I would limit myself to hurting her very horribly as soon as we were alone.

No, no puedes echarle mano de una pistola y pegarle un tiro a una chica a la que ni siquiera conoces, simplemente porque te atrae.

Cordone, delighted with himself for swindling the gullible Indians out of a fortune in pearls, stood at the railing of his ship smiling down at the pursuers. He was about to order his soldiers to fire upon the Indians when he was struck in the chest by an arrow. He dropped to the deck.

Don't you believe in nonviolence?' I asked. "'Yes,' said Miss Minnie, 'when the other parties are nonviolent, too. But when I have just come out of a funeral parlor from looking at a little small black boy shot three times by a full-grown cop, I think it is about time I raised my pocketbook and strike at least one blow for freedom.

Way Down South in Dixie (Break the heart of me) They hung my black young lover To a cross roads tree. Way Down South in Dixie (Bruised body high in air) I asked the white Lord Jesus What was the use of prayer. Way Down South in Dixie (Break the heart of me) Love is a naked shadow On a gnarled and naked tree.

Once more The guns roar. Once more The call goes forth for men. Again The war begins. Again False slogans become a bore. Yet no one cries: Enough! No more! Like angry dogs the human race Loves the snarl upon its face. It loves to kill. The pessimist says It always will. That I do not believe. Some day The savage in us will wear away. Some day quite clearly Men will see How clean and happy life can be And how, Like flowers planted in the sun, We, too, can give forth blossoms, Shared by everyone.

Song For a Dark Girl Way Down South in Dixie ?(Break the heart of me) They hung my black young lover ?To a cross roads tree. Way Down South in Dixie ?(Bruised body high in air) I asked the white Lord Jesus ?What was the use of prayer. Way Down South in Dixie ?(Break the heart of me) Love is a naked shadow ?On a gnarled and naked tree.

Beale Street Love Love Is a brown man's fist With hard knuckles Crushing the lips, Blackening the eyes – Hit me again, Says Clorinda.

Arms are instruments of ill omen. . . . When one is compelled to use them, it is best to do so without relish. There is no glory in victory, and to glorify it despite this is to exult in the killing of men. . . . When great numbers of people are killed, one should weep over them with sorrow. When victorious in war, one should observe mourning rites.

There is no calamity greater than lightly engaging in war.

Jesus," Dante interjected when the heavy quiet in the vehicle seemed endless. "All this touchy feely is making me itchy to kill something. How about we quit jerking each other off and go blow the roof off this mutha?

and horror of horrors, he realized that he was experiencing some sort of a crush. He needed to kill something.

Raynor slapped her so hard her teeth rattled and eyes stung, but she refused to react except to say saucily, "You must have heard how I like foreplay." "I hope you like it a lot, because with your mouth, you'll be getting it nonstop." "Goody," she said dryly. "Because I so love a man who needs to prove his masculinity by beating on women. Do you hit children and kick cats, too?

In fact, the males very rarely take permanent mates.' His skin was so tan. 'Why not?' 'Because we tend to kill the females.' Ah, well, okay. That wasn't cool.

Who'd have thought your screwball brother could have gone so serial-killer fucktwat insane?

Remember that when he's slaughtering you. It's important that the guy strangling the life out of you is drop-dead gorgeous.

War is hell." —William Tecumseh Sherman "Sherman was totally my bitch." —War

An axe struck him in the head. Pain screamed through him as shards of bone from his own skull drove into his brain. "Bastard" he snarled as he wheeled around to his attacker, a burly Ramreel with a black snout and glowing red eyes. "You fucked up my Mohawk.

People shooting other people is bad and don't nobody have to tell you, you born knowing it.

Over two thousand people died in that vicious intramural bloodletting. While the Jews of Palestine were developing the young leaders and the social institutions that would be their greatest resource, Haj Amin Husseini methodically deprived the Arabs of theirs. Throttling progress and any drift to rational thought with his angry fanaticism, cowing with the guns of his ignorant villagers the educated elite, he reduced a generation of Arab leadership to fear and silence.

In 1880, after the assassination of Alexander II, the mobs, aided by the Czar's soldiers, burned and butchered their way through one Jewish community after another, leaving a new word in their wake: pogrom.

Anyway, whacking a surly bartender ain't much of a crime.

Get out of here," Tom said to the two Berserkers. "He doesn't understand!" "This is all wrong!" said Ron, pressing his bleeding mouth with his hand. "Everybody knows homophobia was invented by the Christians!" "Then you can have the comfort," said Jorgen with a smile, "of knowing you're not the victim of a hate crime.