Best 321 quotes in «heroism quotes» category

Real heroes defy authority, they don't submit to it.

Remember, before they promoted to the chair of CEO, they were the best employees of their companies.

Remember the most beautiful yet the most uncomfortable pair of heels you own? You feel like a queen when you wear them, almost making people look up to your elegance. While on the inside you know how you struggle to keep your toes straight, firm your ankle so it doesn't slip, tolerate the knee pain so you are standing tall! Well that's an everyday life of a strong woman, There is so much going on in the inside- no one can guess a thing on your exterior. You don't need to wear heels everyday. It's okay to be weak and vulnerable- once in a while

Schizofrenia pana la ultima ei limita, refuzul total al oricarei realitati decat cea a visului, al oricarui adevar decat al viziunii.

Sacrifices will make you a martyr, victories will make you a hero.

She didn’t raise us to care about her,” Tsunami argued. “Kestrel was just keeping us alive, and if that’s what she wants, the best thing we can do is run away right now.” “I’d like to be something more than alive,” Clay said fiercely. “I’d like to be the kind of dragon she doesn’t think I am — the kind they write prophecies about. That dragon would rescue her no matter how awful she is.

Responsibility sounds pretty straightforward, but it’s more than keeping a schedule or running a company or expanding a vision into a global enterprise. It’s being able to attack a problem from any angle. It’s knowing where to push and when to pull. And when heroism meets responsibility, it’s sending the people you care about out to save the world, not knowing if they’ll return.

Sometimes, before you make any plans or resolutions, before you declare your heroic intent to persevere, you just have to cry.

Sometimes even the most successful people feel empty and incomplete; because they are not heroes yet.

Sometimes a hero is unbelievably good for so many but terribly bad for someone else.

Sometimes stories get on my nerves--especially the ones where unfair things keep happening to the hero over and over, for no reason at all, and he valiantly overcomes it all. Life isn't like that. Not every hero can stay valiant. Sometimes, they can't even stay a hero, so what does that make them? A failure? A pussy? A total failure jerkwad with no hope on the horizon save finding a cemetery and digging rectangles in the ground for the town drunk?

So the difference between a criminal and a hero is the order in which their vile crimes are committed. And justice comes with a sell-by date. In that case, you’d better hurry. You wouldn't want your heroism to spoil.

Starting and profitably running a business is not just some achievement, it is heroism.

Someone needs to fight, someone needs to sacrifice, someone needs to inspire, someone needs to be a hero.

Stop grovelling and start working.

Targets are achieved sooner out of need, than out of greed.

Sometimes in life we must fight not only without fear, but also without hope.

That summer, Titanic fever gripped Kabul. People smuggled pirated copies of the film from Pakistan- sometimes in their underwear. After curfew, everyone locked their doors, turned out the lights, turned down the volume, and reaped tears for Jack and Rose and the passengers of the doomed ship. If there was electrical power, Mariam, Laila, and the children watched it too. A dozen times or more, they unearthed the TV from behind the tool-shed, late at night, with the lights out and quilts pinned over the windows. At the Kabul River, vendors moved into the parched riverbed. Soon, from the river's sunbaked hollows, it was possible to buy Titanic carpets, and Titanic cloth, from bolts arranged in wheelbarrows. There was Titanic deodorant, Titanic toothpaste, Titanic perfume, Titanic pakora, even Titanic burqas. A particularly persistent beggar began calling himself "Titanic Beggar." "Titanic City" was born. It's the song, they said. No, the sea. The luxury. The ship. It's the sex, they whispered. Leo, said Aziza sheepishly. It's all about Leo. "Everybody wants Jack," Laila said to Mariam. "That's what it is. Everybody wants Jack to rescue them from disaster. But there is no Jack. Jack is not coming back. Jack is dead.

The attitude of uncompromising heroism is attractive, and appeals especially to the dramatic instinct. But the purpose of the serious revolutionary is not personal heroism, nor martyrdom, but the creation of a happier world. Those who have the happiness of the world at heart will shrink from attitudes and the facile hysteria of "no parley with the enemy." They will not embark upon enterprises, however arduous and austere, which are likely to involve the martyrdom of their country and the discrediting of their ideals. It is by slower and less showy methods that the new world must be built [...] To find fault with those who urge these considerations, or to accuse them of faint-heartedness, is mere sentimental self-indulgence, sacrificing the good we can do to the satisfaction of our own emotions.

The atrocities of war are only overshadowed by the heroism of their dead.

The definition of a hero changes depending on the needs of the person with the dictionary. And of late I’ve become more aware how much being a hero to the empire means being a war criminal to the rest of the world.

The death of Robert G. Ingersoll, on July 21, 1899, was one of the most widely -- noted events of that year in the civilized world. It was also one of the most widely and profoundly regretted, -- the most deeply deplored. Everywhere, the wisest knew (and the noblest felt) that the cause of humanity had met its greatest loss. To many thousands who realized the intellectual amplitude, the moral heroism and grandeur, the boundless generosity and sympathy, the tenderness and affection, of this incomparable man, his passing was as an intimate and bitter bereavement. Ingersoll was doubtless known, personally and otherwise, to more people than any other American who had not sat in the presidential chair; and, notwithstanding either the number or the wishes of his critics, his death probably brought genuine grief to more hearts than has that of any other individual in our history. Twice before, 'a Nation bowed and wept'; this time, a people.

STOP DIGGING.' The letters on the mirror were etched in my memory. Now, as I finished my make-up with a swipe of lip-gloss, I huffed on the mirror, and wrote in the steam obscuring my reflection one word: 'NO'.

The definition of a hero changes depending on the needs of the person with the dictionary.

The definition of a good man is someone who makes the moral choice when temptation invites him to do otherwise. The definition of a hero is someone who makes that moral choice even when temptation, threat of reprisal, and the mores of his culture invite him to do otherwise.

The hero’s journey can take place on a battlefield or in a cubicle. We can live it out amid public clamor or in the soundless vault between our ears. The demons we are dueling are always the same. They are our own fears of becoming who we are. No one who has ever lived—or ever will—has a journey like ours. And yet our journey is universal. It is every woman’s and every man’s.

The hero, the waker of his own soul, is himself but the convenient means of his own dissolution.

The modern mind is forced towards the future by a certain sense of fatigue, not unmixed with terror, with which it regards the past. It is propelled towards the coming time; it is, in the exact words of the popular phrase, knocked into the middle of next week. And the goad which drives it on thus eagerly is not an affectation for futurity Futurity does not exist, because it is still future. Rather it is a fear of the past; a fear not merely of the evil in the past, but of the good in the past also. The brain breaks down under the unbearable virtue of mankind. There have been so many flaming faiths that we cannot hold; so many harsh heroisms that we cannot imitate; so many great efforts of monumental building or of military glory which seem to us at once sublime and pathetic. The future is a refuge from the fierce competition of our forefathers. The older generation, not the younger, is knocking at our door. It is agreeable to escape, as Henley said, into the Street of By-and-Bye, where stands the Hostelry of Never. It is pleasant to play with children, especially unborn children. The future is a blank wall on which every man can write his own name as large as he likes; the past I find already covered with illegible scribbles, such as Plato, Isaiah, Shakespeare, Michael Angelo, Napoleon. I can make the future as narrow as myself; the past is obliged to be as broad and turbulent as humanity. And the upshot of this modern attitude is really this: that men invent new ideals because they dare not attempt old ideals. They look forward with enthusiasm, because they are afraid to look back.

The major problem of the world is, most of the people are unjustifiably angry and very few are loving.

The most unlucky generation is the one which couldn't produce a hero to look upto.

The most enduring heroes are people who don't try to be.

The noble heart will find no shortage of places to offer itself in martyrdom, but you cannot die on every battlefield.” ~ Duncan Sinclair, from The Outcast Highlander

The men history declares heroes are merely heroes because they failed to survive their benevolent acts.

... the nearness of the wound to the gift,

The position of a hero is not for the comparision, it is a reference point

The problem of the hero is to pierce himself (and therewith his world) precisely through that point; to shatter and annihilate that key knot of his limited existence.

There are those who hold first rankers and there are those who are heroes.

There is a huge difference between a coward, and a hero. Cowards never learns from their mistakes. Like many, he masquerades as a dragon, but is a mere drunken fool, blinded by his own pride, and foolishness. And like many, cowards love inflicting pain upon the innocent. Like an ostrich, cowards hides underneath the sand, blocking all kinds of disturbances, critisisms towards them. That is not the case of heroes. Heroes on the other hand learns from their mistakes. Unlike a coward, a hero never commits the same mistakes again, and hates inflicting pain upon the innocent. They need not be blamed by others; they blame themselves, even for somethings that seem so little. By doing so, they learn from even the smallest of mistakes, and later on achieves a reward beyond imagining.

There will never be complete satisfaction in the life, satisfaction is an illusion, there is only heroism.

Thermopylae; Gettysburg; Passchendaele; there is always, it seems, some magnificent bastard prepared to stand his ground.

The story of John Ritter illustrates what it means to be a hero and how we treat our heroes. When we idealize real people they lose their humanity. They are turned into idols that we worship and may later want to destroy. Heroes are transformed from conscious-feeling fellow homo sapiens into characters in our stories. The greatest hero-characters will become legends or even mythic characters. We might think we know them, but when they are idolized they become more like treasured memories, existing in our minds as archetypal characters, rather than living-breathing human beings with thoughts and feelings of their own.

The world is a better place to live in because it contains human beings who will give up ease and security and stake their own lives in order to do what they themselves think worth doing.

They blew out a breath and did the thing all heroes must do—they took that terrifying first step.

Those novels with old-fashioned heroes and heroines in them -- are ruinous!

Those who did better were those who didn't wait idly for help to arrive. In the end, with systems crashing and failing, what mattered most and had the greatest immediate effects were the actions and decisions made in the midst of a crisis by individuals.

Then, one demurs that essentially a society is entertained by the theatre of heroism, and in strict individualism of existence, without others, it is only a narcissistic struggle. There is no hero in a lonesome existence. A man lives in a shred and contradiction of duality between his splendid uniqueness out of nature with a grip of eternality and condemnable body of contemptible smallness, transient but delightfully comfortable to rot into the disappearance. This density and finiteness! Laughable yet strangely estimable quality of certitude from his inner drive in the making of his world. O this ambiguity, O this duality, O this weakness. O human! O human!

There is no such thing as a “war hero”, because there is nothing about war that is heroic.

The world needs heroes. Be a hero and build your part of the world.

Today is my last day as a human, tomorrow I am going to be a hero.

To go where no one else has ever gone before is the secret of heroism.