Quotes About Violence

War makes monsters out of men.

The justifications of men who kill should always be heard with skepticism, said the monster.

A monster, I think, remembering what Ben told me once. War makes Monsters of Men.

This is what war does. Right here, in my hands. This is war.

What I do know is that if you give a human being a chance to be stupid and violent, then they're going to take it, every time. No matter where they are.

But it's obvious since the beginning that wars make no sense. You kill people to tell them you want to stop killing them.

The only crime, the only crime is to take a life. There is nothing else.' 'And that's why you don't fight,'I say. She turns to me sharply. 'To preserve life is to fight everything that man stands for.

Is this what war is? Is this what men want so much? Is this sposed to make them men?

Now that, said the monster, is how destruction is properly done.

And maybe it takes a terrorist to fight a terrorist.

Superior numbers versus superior firepower. A recipe for unending slaughter.

I'll ask ye this once," the woman says, lifting the rifle again. "Am I gonna need this?" I exchange a glance with Viola. "No," I say. "No, mam," Viola says. Mam? I think. "It's like sir, bonny boy." The woman slings the rifle over her shoulder by its strap. "For if yer a-talking to a lady.

War makes monsters of men," I say, quoting Ben from that night in the weird place where New World buried its dead. "And women," Mistress Coyle says.

Siempre hay que escuchar con escepticismo la justificación de los hombres que matan

A peace that blacked yer eye,' I say. 'A peace that split yer lip.' He looks at me for another second and then gives a sad snort. "The words of a sage," he says, "in the voice of a hick.

If the infeckshun from the band takes Viola," I say, "you'll beg me to kill you after what I'll do to you." "I believe you," says the Mayor.

it's been obvious since the beginning that wars make no sense. You kill people to tell them you want to stop killing them. Monsters of men, I think. And women.

A peace that blacked yer eye," I say. "A peace that split yer lip.

War is a monster," he says, almost to himself. "War is the devil. It starts and it consumes and it grows and grows and grows." He's looking at me now. "And otherwise normal men become monsters, too.

war only destroys. No one escapes from a war. No one. Not even the survivors. You accept things that would appal you at any other time because life has temporarily lost all meaning." "War makes monsters of men,

A monster, I think, remembering what Ben told me once. War makes monsters of men. "Wrong," says the Mayor. "It's war that makes us men in the first place. Until there's war, we are only children.

The justifications of men who kill should always be heard with skepticism,

War makes Monsters of Men

For a moment Jack felt the strongest inclination to snatch up his little gilt chair and beat the white-faced man down with it...