Best 8360 quotes in «fighting quotes» category

. . in Old Karate, you learned you Art through pain. You learned quickly that your techniques had to be fast or powerful or both. If you did not embrace pain and it's lessons adequately, you simply did not survive

In relationships, when a person gets angry, it is really just hurt in disguise.  So men, consider this the next time the woman you are with gets angry with you.  She is most likely just hurt and needs you to hold her and reassure her.

In the horrors of war, please bring me peace.

In The Land of Poetry and Fighting, Efficiency rules the throne. I try to live here, so I shave my head because hair is dead and dead is inefficient.

I should at least die as I had lived—fighting.

I should've told him that when I'd had a knife pulled on me for the first time, I ran faster than Carl Lewis. That the only people who survive in this world are cowards. And that true heroes are destined to die young. That the world needed him, so if anyone pulled a knife on him , he had to run faster than a speeding bullet.

Is it me you're describing, or yourself?

... I slipped our wicker bed and walked the sands where we were also roughly repeated: some young couple, "you did," "I didn't," "you sure the fuck did" – they hugged that bicker to their chests like blankets fighting cold.

It is a joyous thing, war.  You love your comrade so much in war.  When you see that your quarrel is just, and your blood is fighting well, tears rise to your eyes. A great sweet feeling of loyalty and of pity fills your heart on seeing your friend so valiantly exposing his body.  And then your are prepared to go and live or die with him, and for love not to abandon him.  And out of that, there arises such a delectation, that he who has not experienced it is not fit to say what delight is.  Do you think that a man who does that fears death?  Not at all, for he feels so strengthened, so elated, that he does not know where he is.  Truly he is afraid of nothing.

I think maybe, when I was very young, I witnessed a chaste cheek kiss between the two when it was impossible to avoid. Christmas, birthdays. Dry lips. On their best married days, their communications were entirely transactional: 'We're out of milk again.' (I'll get some today.) 'I need this ironed properly.' (I'll do that today.) 'How hard is it to buy milk?' (Silence.) 'You forgot to call the plumber.' (Sigh.) 'Goddammit, put on your coat, right now, and go out and get some goddamn milk. Now.' These messages and orders brought to you by my father, a mid-level phonecompany manager who treated my mother at best like an incompetent employee.

I thought how wise he was to lure his rival out into the woods, where every fight's fair.

It is better to die with your boots on than to live as a bootlicker.

It is better fighting and losing than not fighting at all!

It's a discomfiting thing to have the person you love more than anything in the world toss a knife at your friend's head and walk away.

It is easier to fight for one's principles than to live up to them.

It's not that success is guaranteed that we go to war. It's because it is the only alternative we have left to avoid annihilation

It's better to look at a black and white world, rather than black and blue.

It seems to happen sudden—a fighter gets good. He gets easy and graceful. He learns how to save himself—no energy wasted... he slips and slides— he travels with the punch. . . . Oh, sure, I like the way you're shaping up.

It's hard to say which I like more, the perfectly happy days or the hours right after we've ended a good fight.

it's like being attacked by a RAT!

It's impossible to be a good writer if you haven't lived badly. A past life of drinking heavily, fighting and whoring all help to ease those words onto the page.

It’s no big deal. It’s kind of like a tattoo. It won’t hurt, not too much, just a few stitches and it’ll be all over. It’s really interesting how it’s done. You won’t believe where your soul hides. Go on, take a guess. Where do you think it is?

It was easier to deal with Tennyson when he was fighting me; but having him on my side was frightening, because now I didn't know who the enemy was.

It was always wise to pick your battles and this was one they could not win. Not, yet, anyway.

Love was not enough to fight or I was not worth to fight.

It wasn't supposed to. It was just supposed to stop you from hurting yourself.” “It helps—” “No it doesn't. It just pushes it away temporarily. Just like the booze.” “But I need—” “You need to let yourself feel. Feel it, own it. Then move on.” “You make it sound so easy.” Bitterness drips from each syllable. “It’s not. It’s the fucking hardest thing a person can do.” I smooth a damp strand out of her face and away from my mouth. “It’s the hardest fucking thing. It’s why we drink and do drugs and fight. It’s why I play music and build engines.

I've been fighting every single day of my life. Sometimes I think all I have left is fight.

I wanted to beat the heck out of the JV guys for that, except I wouldn't know what to do in a fistfight without a manual.

I watch the trees all dressed up in the Spring, While posing as they stand in line, Placing their best foot forward, showing off their leaves and fighting for attention, One tree at a time

I will give you a few guarantees of my own, Mukthar. I guarantee that before the sun sets, even if you win, even if my cold, dead body is lying on the field, you will rue the day you ever set foot in the Plains. For every inch you advance I'll exact gallons of Mukthar blood. I guarantee that there will be not one family of the Bear Mukthars or they will mourn at least one of theirs. I guarantee that even if you are triumphant the fruits of victory will taste like dust in your mouth. I guarantee that if you fail to kill me today, you will meet me again. You will meet me at the Ximerionian border. You will meet me at every city, town, village, and hamlet. You will meet me on every Amirathan crossroad, on every hill. I will fight you with every sword at my command, with every arrow, with every dagger. I will fight you with pitchforks. I will fight you with the very rocks of the land you try to conquer. I will never, never, never give up. ~Anaxantis, before the Battle of the Zinchara (May 29th, 1453 aed)

Luka—turn your wheel so I need not slay this woman!

Madoka: Won't anyone notice that Mami-san is dead? Homura: Mami Tomoe's only relatives are distant relations. It will be quite some time before anyone files a missing persons report. When one dies on that side of the wards, not even a body is left behind. She'll wind up forever a "missing person"... That is what happens to magical girls in the end. Madoka: ...That's too cruel! Mami-san has been fighting all alone for a long time for everyone's sake! For no one to even notice that she's gone... That's just too lonely a fate... Homura: It is just that kind of contract that gives us the power in the first place. It isn't for anyone else's sake. We fight on for the sake of our own prayer. So for no one to notice... for the world to forget us... That is just something we have to accept.

Madoka: I'm always... making somebody else fight for me. I can't do anything... Does that make me a coward? Kyōko: Why do you gotta be a magical girl? Madoka: "Why"...? Kyōko: ...This work isn't about playing around. When the job's about putting yourself in harm's way, the only ones who do it are the poor slobs who don't have any other choice. The others who are surrounded by loving families and have the whole world ahead of 'em... the idiots who become magical girls on a whim... They're the ones I can't accept. I just wanna crush 'em! ...Someday the time may come when you have your back to a wall and you gotta fight. You can think about that stuff when the time comes.

It will not always be easy, but it will always be beautiful.

I've barely survived inside a world that took too long to ring it's song. The poet simply becomes the the last line of his greatest poem he never wrote.

I’ve been so occupied with what I was fighting against, I’d forgotten what I was fighting for

I wanted to fix things, obviously. You know it’s like… the planets are out of alignment when we’re fighting.

I will not die without fighting for a life I am not yet done living.

Love was not enough to fight or i was not worth for fight.

Loving a warrior is hard. Dying in the line of duty is an honor to them. They would rather take that road than to dishonor their sacred oath

Lydia displays her right hand and instantly bathed the room with a blinding light. It lasted only a moment before it drew back into her palm. “I can fix you if you’re ever broken.

Many want to be a warrior but they don't know what a lonely, tough, or pain staking journey it is. Warriors have to fight on behalf of the defenseless, defend what is right, as well as fight believers and non-believers alike. In reality, few like warriors because they confront their own, and their own think they're above being confronted. The warrior, you see, most often walks alone.

Max?' he asked. 'Yeah?' '...What are you doing?' 'Shooting people.

Men are always ready to fight; it's tenderness that scares them.

May the games be ever in your favour

Men are always ready to fight; it's feeling, tenderness, that scares them to death.

Most people who watch a fight think it's all about the muscle: hitting harder, moving faster. And, yeah, sometimes it looked that way. But telling somebody that you won a fight by hitting the other person harder and more often was like telling somebody that the way you kept from drowning was by moving your arms and legs.

Men tend to fight differently with a woman than they do with men. The overwhelming majority of fights between men and women start with the man attacking from behind, and almost instantly end on the ground with the woman on the bottom. So a good female fighter needs to know how to fight on her back.

Military men say that troops can stand twenty percent losses; more than that, they go to pieces. But we had many an outfit with only twenty percent survivors and they went on fighting.

More people have died in the name of religion than any other cause on earth. Is massacring God's creations really serving God - or the devil? And what father would want to see his children constantly divided and fighting? What God would allow a single human life to be sacrificed for monetary gain? Again, the Creator or the devil?