Best 1688 quotes in «battle quotes» category

Growing up, I always had a soldier mentality. As a kid I wanted to be a soldier, a fighter pilot, a covert agent, professions that require a great deal of bravery and risk and putting oneself in grave danger in order to complete the mission. Even though I did not become all those things, and unless my predisposition, in its youngest years, already had me leaning towards them, the interest that was there still shaped my philosophies. To this day I honor risk and sacrifice for the good of others - my views on life and love are heavily influenced by this.

Harmony would only come with destruction.

Having hope is half the battle. Without hope, there is no battle to win, no place to go. Without hope, you stay where you are forever.

having nothing to struggle against they have nothing to struggle for.

…having once seen him put forth his strength in battle, methinks I could know him again among a thousand warriors. He rushes into the fray as if he were summoned to a banquet. There is more than mere strength--there seems as if the whole soul and spirit of the champion were given to every blow which he deals upon his enemies. God assoilzie him of the sin of bloodshed! It is fearful, yet magnificent, to behold how the arm and heart of one man can triumph over hundreds.

He didn't know Rachel very well, but assumed her behavior would be similar to most women he encountered. As soon as he stepped foot inside she would attack, not allowing him to get in a word. At least that was what he imagined.

He’d been around the island for a while, and I’m sorry to say that being bashed around in Battle and at raids had done nothing very good for his brains.

He fought alongside a royalist army against the usurpers during the Siege of Colchester and commanded those besieged in the city. He distinguished himself through his bravery.

He had placed the life of every one of his men before his own, and if that wasn’t the sign of a truly great leader, then he didn’t know what was.

He had never cared if his victims lived or died once he was through with them. But not her. He couldn’t allow her to die. The moment he felt that small flutter of her heart, ready to give way to his hunger, he had stopped and gazed down at her for long moments.

He had hundreds of monsters inside him wearing his face as a mask. Screaming and trying to tear him apart and take his place. He always fought furiously to hold them back and it created an unending chaos inside him. Eventually, in the end, he lost all his strength and battles. He was dragged down into the abyss. He cried and fought hard to find his way back home. To get out from there again and to be himself. But among all these masks, the real he was lost forever. He never made it back again, and he was not himself anymore.

He is a true casualty of battle. There's not a physical scar, but look at the man's heart, and his head, and there are scars galore.

He knew she loved him in that moment. Gabe never wanted to be part of the holy fight, but now he was, he was not about to lose.

He jokingly thought that this guy fancied himself some kind of Jedi knight, waiting for him to say, 'these are not the droids you're looking for.

Her unique observations are about how the war impacted people—from the thrill-seekers going to battlefields for fun, to the nurses working among the wounded in darkness, and London society women venturing into foreign lands to work near dangerous enemy lines.

He remembered the gracefulness with which she moved in battle—like liquid flesh. There was no one quite like his wife, and he never felt more triumphant and free than when he was in her company.

He stopped the flyers And by his rare example made the coward Turn terror into sport. As weeds before A vessel under sail, so men obeyed And fell below his stem. His sword, Death's stamp, Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot He was a thing of blood, whose every motion Was timed with dying cries. Alone he entered The mortal gate o' th' city, which he painted With shunless destiny; aidless came off And with a sudden reinforcement struck Corioles like a planet. Now all's his, When by and by the dim of war gan pierce His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit Requickened what in flesh was fatigate, And to the battle came he, where he did Run reeking o'er the lives of men as if 'Twere a perpetual spoil; and till we called Both field and city ours, he never stood To ease his breast with panting.

He talks a lot. He thinks is he playing a game, but this is a game of my rules.

He who has the obeisance for the battle shall have the courage to win ,solitary, the war.

He who fights with guns and knives is a coward! For how easy is it to kill with the single pull of a trigger? And how does human flesh stand to a sharpened metal? Even an idiot can kill with a gun and a knife! A man needs no courage at all to stand behind these things that make him feel invincible and bigger than he ever will be! I don't say that no one should fight! Because battles must be fought, and wars will always be won! But let those who fight, fight with bare hands! The measure of true strength! With his hands and feet and nothing but! The country with truly strong men is able to have soldiers that need not a knife, that need no guns! And if you can soar even higher than that; fight with your pens! Let us all write! And see the substance of the man through his philosophies and through his beliefs! And let one philosophy outdo another! Let one belief outlast another! And let this be how we determine the outcome of a war!

He wanted it to be just right; he didn’t want to make the mistake of trying to tell her he loved her, and having the words come out confused or ending up saying something completely different. He changed into a fresh suit, checked his hair and took a few deep breaths to calm himself, before returning to Amelia’s chambers…only to find her gone. A sigh of frustration escaped him. It was so typical. He told her there was a surprise for her, she was excited, and he was about to confess that he loved her…of course it was only natural for her to ruin it by running off. It was so typically Amelia.

He was in a fairy kingdom where everything was possible. He looked up at the sky. And the sky was a fairy realm like the earth. It was clearing, and over the tops of the trees clouds were swiftly sailing as if unveiling the stars.

His angelic wings blackened when the dark fury assailed his mind. Summoning new strength from the unholy power that ravaged his soul, grieved to drastic levels of desperation by the tainting of the holy light within him, he combated ally and enemy alike, bent on destroying both sides in order to ensure the quelling of the dark energies there and then. For days and nights, the lone warrior bathed himself in the blood of angels and demons. And when it was over, he stood alone on contaminated land, with a contaminated soul. He was banned forever from Heaven and not even Hell had space for a creature which seemed to cherish Oblivion over Pandemonium. The dark angel, not so far removed from his former self as his superiors seemed to believe, died on the edge of the cliffs, of utter loneliness and despair.

Home? What is home? Home is where a house is that you come back to when the rainy season is about to begin, to wait until the next dry season comes around. Home is where your woman is, that you come back to in the intervals between a greater love - the only real love - the lust for riches buried in the earth, that are your own if you can find them. Perhaps you do not call it home, even to yourself. Perhaps you call them 'my house,' 'my woman,' What if there was another 'my house,' 'my woman,' before this one? It makes no difference. This woman is enough for now. Perhaps the guns sounded too loud at Anzio or at Omaha Beach, at Guadalcanal or at Okinawa. Perhaps when they stilled again some kind of strength had been blasted from you that other men still have. And then again perhaps it was some kind of weakness that other men still have. What is strength, what is weakness, what is loyalty, what is perfidy? The guns taught only one thing, but they taught it well: of what consequence is life? Of what consequence is a man? And, therefore, of what consequence if he tramples love in one place and goes to find it in the next? The little moment that he has, let him be at peace, far from the guns and all that remind him of them. So the man who once was Bill Taylor has come back to his house, in the dusk, in the mountains, in Anahuac. ("The Moon Of Montezuma")

Holy shadows of the dead, I am not to blame for your cruel and bitter fate, but the accursed rivalry which brought sister nations and brother people to fight one another. I do not feel happy for this victory of mine. On the contrary, I would be glad, brothers, if I had all of you standing here next to me, since we are united by the same language, the same blood and the same visions. [Addressing the dead Hellenes of the Battle of Chaeronea]

I am the wind...I am death.

Humility and pride will forever battle whenever or wherever love is concerned

I am Abdumasi of the House of Abd, master of ships, champion cat gambler, and I challenge you to mortal up-fuckery!

Hot, bright heat filled him like some ecstatic poison, and Hartan's pony shied in terror as a wordless howl burst from his throat. His dripping ears were flat to his skull, fire crackled in his brown eyes, his huge sword blurred in a whirring figure eight before him, and the brigand running at him gawked in sudden panic. The raider's feet skidded in mud as he tried to brake, but it was far too late. He was face-to-face with the worst nightmare of any Norfressan, a Horse Stealer hradani in the grip of the Rage, and a thunderbolt of steel split him from crown to navel.

I do not worry about corrupt corporate controlled governments ignoring climate change and global warming, as I know that Mother Nature will ultimately win the battle at the expense of over seven billion people on planet Earth.

I cannot believe the path to victory lies in staining our souls so black we become indistinguishable from those we fight.

I can die?” Hayley squeaked. “We can all die,” he said with a shrug. She pursed her lips at that. No shit, everyone can die, it’s that opposite part of living. But… “How likely is the dying part? Like…plague rips apart a village, or knock your head on a rock and maybe bleed from your eyeballs certain death?” “That,” the knight returned to his march through the masses, “depends entirely upon you.

I don't know who you are; you could be an axe murderer for all I know. How am I supposed to trust you and follow you? For that matter, follow you where?" Gabe inquired. "Search yourself, what do your instincts tell you?" Uri asked. "That you're a crazy nut job and freaking me out!" Gabe snapped back.

If chaos is a masterpiece, Then you should see my heart. If battle scars are beautiful, Then I'm a work of art.

I entered the fire and could have quit- Could have turned and walked away, Weeping each step for passed pain. I chose, instead, to stay. I stayed, and the flames went high, Far taller than little me. So high and so bright, all around, That soon I could not see.

If Satan really wanted to face Jesus Christ in a battle, he will be facilitating the End of the Age by helping to spread the gospel to the whole world. This must be fulfilled for the End to come. Matthew 24:14

If God's love encompasses the whole world and if everyone who does not believe in him will perish, then surely this question needs to be asked: When, after two thousand years, does God's plan kick in for the billion people he 'so loves' in China? Or for the 840 million in India? Or the millions in Japan, Afghanistan, Siberia, Egypt, Burma ·.. and on and on? Why would a God who 'so loved the world' reveal his message only to a tiny minority of the people on earth, leaving the majority in ignorance? Is it possible to believe that the Father of all Mankind would select as his Chosen People a small Middle Eastern nation, Israel, reveal His will exclusively to them, fight alongside them in their battles to survive, and only after their failure to reach out to any other group, update His plan for the world's salvation by sending His 'only begotten son,' not to the world but, once again, exclusively to Israel?

If life is a battlefield, many of us would be rejected as 4F, given a card, and sent home. What can we do to be ready for the battle of manhood? What can we do to reset ourselves, and get our lives healthy enough to thrive?

If you flipped a switch in the back of your brain, you could watch a second go by like the frames of a movie. Once you figured out what would be happening ten frames later, you could take whatever steps you needed to turn the situation to your advantage. All at a subconscious level. In battle, you couldn't count on anyone who didn't understand how to break down time.

If the universe does consist of a battle between the devil and God, the final analysis should conclude that religion would have been the devil’s most brilliant move and science, God’s.

If they saw men swarming up the wall, if they saw the axes chopping at our shields on the wall’s top, then they would join the battle. Men want to be on the winning side.

If you expect the battle to be insurmountable, you've met the enemy. It's you.

If you're watching, Eo, it's time to close your eyes.

If you only practice sometimes, you shall only be somewhat good,” Gavin said. He may be some angel-demon on the battlefield, but his motivational speeches were like a wine-soaked aunt prattling on to her army of cats.

If your opponent is better armed and has longer reach, then surprise is your only ally. And then you'd better hope he's half asleep.

Impossibilitarians are defeated before the battle even begins. The best attitude that accommodates failure is disbelief. You can't do it because you believe you can't! You can do it because you believe you can!

If you want to be a real warrior, then here’s our secret to you: we fight to protect others. We fight to protect the ones we love, the ones we respect, the ones we want to see prospering and achieving their goals, gaining their happiness. We do not wait for any reward for what we do. That is what true heroism is. That is what a warrior does.

I have learned that it is one thing to kill in battle, to send a brave man's soul to the corpse hall of the gods, but quite another to take a helpless man's life...

I have to get stronger, harder, and faster. The only way to get hard enough to walk the Apocalypse Road is in the crucible of battle.

In battle, Musa told Tilo, enemies can’t break your spirit, only friends can