Best 769 quotes in «soldier quotes» category

Why should the brave Spanish soldiers brag? The sunne never sets in the Spanish dominions, but ever shineth on one part or other we have conquered for our king.

Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.

With 'Avatar,' I thought, Forget all these chick flicks and do a classic guys' adventure movie, something in the Edgar Rice Burroughs mold, like John Carter of Mars - a soldier goes to Mars.

With courage and character, American soldiers continue to put themselves on the line to defend our freedom, and so many have paid the ultimate sacrifice.

Without excuse and self-consideration of health or limb or life, true soldiers fight, live to fight, love the thickest of the fight, and die in the midst of it.

Woe betide the leaders now perched on their dizzy pinnacles of triumph if they cast away at the conference table what the soldiers had won on a hundred bloodsoaked battlefields.

Woe to me if I should prove myself but a halfhearted soldier in the service of my thorn-crowned Captain.

Women are brilliant. Every woman knows how to do the weirdest thing right out of the bucket. Every woman knows how to do that Hindu head wrap with the towel out of the shower. A typhoon couldn't blow that thing off their heads. Ever try to do that? You look like a drunk Iraqi soldier.

Words are soldiers of fortune hired by different ideas.

Ye living soldiers of the mighty war, Once more from roaring cannon and the drums And bugles blown at morn, the summons comes; Forget the halting limb, each wound and scar: Once more your Captain calls to you; Come to his last review!

You cannot build up a standing army and then throw it back into a box like tin soldiers. Armies equipped to the teeth with weapons, with highly developed instruments of murder and backed by their military interests, have their own dynamic functions.

You can have all the advanced war methods you want, but, after all, nobody has ever invented a war that you don't have to have somebody in the guise of soldiers to stop the bullets.

You cannot demand military service of Christians any more than you can of priests. We do not go forth as soldiers with the Emperor even if he demands this.

You can't equate the game we play to a war. Kellen Winslow said he's a soldier. No, he's not. This is not a war...not a good comparison.

You have to be a soldier and a veteran, or a soldier who sacrificed your life for your country.

You may take the most gallant sailor, the most intrepid airman, or the most audacious soldier, put them at a table together- what do you get? The sum of their fears.

You can make children believe whatever you want, and the children of today are the soldiers and mothers of tomorrow.

You have the energy when you're a kid to really fight for rights - that's why kids make great soldiers, right?

You know a constellation of imperishable values. Live by the mighty truth and power of God. Live above the sludge of a sick society. Live among dispirited humans as the vanguard of peace and good news. Remember, our Commander in Chief has no use for tin soldiers.

You must all be aware that modern war is not a mere matter of military operations. It involves the whole strength and all the resources of the nation. Not only soldiers, but also all citizens without exception, take part.

You never can predict things. I knew the movie Peducted would get a reaction, because it's showing a different vision of our soldiers in Iraq. All we ever get told is that they're valued and we support them, and as they're represented on television, they're true-blue and honorable. Which is true, for the most part.

You said he was a soldier. You don't suppose...?" "Oh, Gods." Ignata blinked. "You think something could be wrong down there?" All of them looked at William, who chose this precise moment to slide the wet shirt back on his back, which required him to flex, raising his arms. "That would be a shame," Cerise murmured.

You're the reason why selfless soldiers won't be kicked out of the military because of who they are or who they love.

You want soldiers who, when they get to a river after a long march, don't start rooting for their canteen in their pack, but just dive right in.

A favorite pastime of soldiers on long mounted patrols was testing each other with impossible hypotheticals. They were an endearing yet vulgar form of moral drama, but only because the alternative was to contemplate being blown up by an illiterate goat herder’s morning project. “What would you rather do, have sex with your sister or shoot your mother?” “Would you rather pick up a baby with a pitchfork, or throw a paraplegic in a fire?” In one form or another, these young men were weighing the relative value of human life in real terms, perhaps as a surrogate for murkier thoughts that might otherwise be in the forefront, such as, “Why am I risking my life in this wasteland?” or “Whose life is worth more, that of my best friend in the gun turret or of some Iraqi kid I’ve never met?” It passed the time.

Amnesia was a soldier's best friend, and luckily, it could be taught. Missing limbs still ache, but missing memories never do.

And be very careful at the front, Paul.” Ah, Mother, Mother! Why do I not take you in my arms and die with you. What poor wretches we are!

...and since the beginning of human history the soldier and the poet had shared great (or terrible) imaginations that remade their surroundings.

And this I know: all these things that now, while we are still in the war, sink down in us like a stone, after the war shall waken again, and then shall begin the disentanglement of life and death.

Antigonus, having taken one of his soldiers into a great degree of favor and esteem for his valor, gave his physicians strict charge to cure him of a long and inward disease under which he had a great while languished, and observing that, after his cure, he went much more coldly to work than before, he asked him what had so altered and cowed him: “Yourself, sir,” replied the other, “by having eased me of the pains that made me weary of my life.

A riverless silence made the air heavy.

Arms are the profession of exiles. (311)

… as General Berringer would readily admit, “If you’re in a fair fight, I’ve done something wrong.

You should be dynamic, and still be soft in the heart. You should stand against injustice and simultaneously, be compassionate within you, like a saint. Be a saint and a soldier, together

You want to make me the best soldier possible. Go down and look at the standings. Look at the all-time standings. So far you're doing an excellent job with me. Congratulations. Now when are you going to put me up against a good army?

Afghanistan changed him, but Iraq sculpted him.

A murderer is a killer without a uniform.

And in the night you realize, when you wake out of a dream, overcome and captivated by the enchantment of visions that crowd in on each other, just how fragile a handhold, how tenuous a boundary separates us from darkness - we are little flames, inadequately sheltered by thin walls from the tempest of dissolution and insensibility in which we flicker and are often all but extinguished. Then the muted sounds of battle surrounds us, and we creep into ourselves and stare wide-eyed into the night.

A soldier never goes to war without his weapon.

A soldier serves not to take, they don't strive to have something, but rather they strive so that others might one day have something. And a blade isn't a happy friend to a soldier, but a burden, a heavy one, to be used scrupulously and carefully. A good soldier does everything they can so they do not have to kill. That's what training is for. But if we have to, we will. And when we do that we give up some part of ourselves, as we're asked to do.

A soldier is a killer painted hero.

A soldier never leaves his wepon.

A woman's body is a sacred temple. A work of art, and a life-giving vessel. And once she becomes a mother, her body serves as a medicine cabinet for her infant. From her milk she can nourish and heal her own child from a variety of ailments. And though women come in a wide assortment as vast as the many different types of flowers and birds, she is to reflect divinity in her essence, care and wisdom. God created a woman's heart to be a river of love, not to become a killing machine.

And it is then, when The Cause, with its greedy mouth, tries to take more from you, tries to take that part of you that you cannot give away, it is only then that you realize all of your sacrifices have been for nothing. You have given yourself to a fraud. And what is left to replace what has been taken is not a hero’s pride, but a bitter emptiness that sours even that last little core of yourself that you cling to. This is the destiny of the man who serves, the man who stands for others. This is the lot of the ones who go out to confront the wolf. This is the disillusionment of all those who protect the flock. This is their secret: that they have allowed their instincts to be used, not for the protection of others, but for the gain of a few. And their “honor” is a monument to the ashes of all those little pieces of themselves that they never got back.

A true warrior does not train tirelessly to fight, or to kill. A true warrior trains endlessly that he may return home alive.

But ironically, now having seen those qualities made incarnate, Lergen realized that the highest form of the Imperial Army's desires was simply another way to describe a monster. And it filled him with fear.

Being in war itself is a gallant, awards are mere decorations.

But as much as this is a soldier's reason d'etre, it is not often that you hear a soldier explicitly talk about 'killing'. The k-word as a verb is instead often disguised and supplanted by any number of other euphemisms. In precise and technical military parlance, reflecting the ever more precise and technically removed means of killing, the 'enemy' becomes the 'target'. But for the soldiers who personally 'engage' these 'targets', these objects are colloquially 'slotted', 'dropped', 'hit', 'fragged', 'sawn in half', 'smashed' or just plain 'shot'. Then the soldier will have achieved the noun of a 'kill'. The author's supposition is that such words are used by the soldier in combat as an attempt to mentally dissociate himself from the reality of his actions, so he can continue to operate as a soldier - and perhaps, when all is finally said and done, as a human being back home.

But I was still determined to protect her. It might be the one good thing I would ever do in my life. I wondered if God would even notice.

Did you ever think it won’t be the undead who kill us, but ordinary people?