Quotes
Quotes about War
Let the motive be in the deed and not in the event. Be not one whose motive for action is the hope of reward.
Perhaps the reward of the spirit who tries is not the goal but the exercise.
No person was ever honored for what he received. Honor has been the reward for what he gave.
The reward of a thing well done is to have done it.
Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, and though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
He that does good for good's sake seeks neither paradise nor reward, but he is sure of both in the end.
No man, who continues to add something to the material, intellectual and moral well-being of the place in which he lives, is left long without proper reward.
How comes it to pass, then, that we appear such cowards in reasoning, and are so afraid to stand the test of ridicule? - Sir Anthony Ashley Cooper, 7th Earl of Shaftesbury,
With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right.
If we resort to lawlessness, the only thing we can hope for is civil war, untold bloodshed, and the end of our dreams.
Be wary of the man who urges an action in which he himself incurs no risk.
In ambition, as in love, the successful can afford to be indulgent toward their rivals. The prize our own, it is graceful to recognize the merit that vainly aspired to it.
The fountains of sacred rivers flow upwards (i.e., everything is turned topsy turvy.)
He loved the twilight that surrounds The border-land of old romance; Where glitter hauberk, helm, and lance, And banner waves, and trumpet sounds, And ladies ride with hawk on wrist, And mighty warriors sweep along, Magnified by the purple mist, The dusk of centuries and of song.
This was love at first sight, love everlasting: a feeling unknown, unhoped for, unexpected-in so far as it could be a matter of conscious awareness; it took entire possession of him, and he understood, with joyous amazement, that this was for life.
Where in venerable rows Widely waving oaks enclose The moat of yonder antique hall, Swarm the rooks with clamorous call; And, to the toils of nature true, Wreath their capacious nests anew.
There was a king of Thule, Was faithful till the grave, To whom his mistress dying, A golden goblet gave. [Ger., Es war ein Konig in Tule Gar treu bis an das Grab, Dem sterbend seine Buhle Einen gold'nen Becher gab.]
The rule Of the many is not well. One must be chief In war and one the king.
O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
At length her grace rose and with modest paces Came to the altar, where she kneeled, and saint-like Cast her fair eyes to heaven and prayed devoutly; Then rose again and bowed her to the people; When by the Archbishop of Canterbury She had all the royal makings of a queen, As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown, The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems Laid nobly on her; which performed, the choir With all the choicest music of the kingdom Together sung 'Te Deum.' So she parted And with the same full state packed back again To York Place, where the feast is held.
We will ourself in person to this war; And, for our coffers, with too great a court And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light, We are enforced to farm our royal realm, The revenue whereof shall furnish us For our affairs in hand.
For God's sake let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings! How some have been deposed, some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed, Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed-- All murdered; for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp; Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks; Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable; and humored thus, Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king! Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence, Throw away respect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty; For you have but mistook me all this while. I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, Need friends. Subjected thus,
Titles are abolished; and the American Republic swarms with men claiming and bearing them.
Like all the best families, we have our share of eccentricities, of impetuous and wayward youngsters and of family disagreements.
And he saw a chariot with a couple of horsemen, a chariot of asses, and a chariot of camels; and he hearkened diligently with much heed: And he cried, A lion: My lord, I stand continually upon the watchtower in the daytime, and I am set in my ward whole nights: And, behold, here cometh a chariot of men, with a couple of horsemen. And he answered and said, Babylon is fallen, is fallen; and all the graven images of her gods he hath broken unto the ground.
