Jacqueline Carey Quotes

I've always fancied being a bit of warrior, on a horse swinging a sword around, sorting out the men... Oh yes, that sounds lovely.

Over his shoulder I saw a star fall. It was me.

It needs but one foe to breed a war, and those who have not swords can still die upon them.

Soldier or sailor, the fighting man is but a fiend; and the staff and body-guard of the Devil musters many a baton.

Ares ever loves to pluck all the fairest flower of an armed host.

Arms on armour clashing bray'd Horrible discord, and the madding wheels Of brazen chariots rag'd: dire was the noise Of conflict.

Two armies at death-grips — that is one great army committing suicide.

We hate the hawk because he ever lives in battle.

Here, therefore, huge and mighty warrior though you be, here shall you die.

He felt around desperately for a weapon. What did he have? Diapers? Cookies? Oh, why hadn't they given him a sword? He was the stupid warrior, wasn't he? His fingers dug in the leather bag and closed around the root beer can. Root beer! He yanked out the can shaking it with all his might. "Attack! Attack!" he yelled.

There is one hell of a difference between fighting in the ring and going to war in Vietnam.

Once I blazed across the sky, Leaving trails of flame; I fell to earth, and here I lie - Who'll help me up again? -A Shooting Star

Now the bright morning-star, day's harbinger, comes dancing from the east.

The Sword of Elendil was forged anew by Elvish smiths, and on its blade was traced a device of seven stars set between the crescent Moon and rayed Sun, and about them was written many runes; for Aragorn son of Arathorn was going to war upon the marches of Mordor. Very bright was that sword when it was made whole again; the light of the sun shone redly in it, and the light of the moon shone cold, its edge was hard and keen. And Aragorn gave it a new name and called it Andúril, Flame of the West.

No country is so wild and difficult but men will make it a theater of war.

People who are vigorous and brutal often find war enjoyable.

A Bayonet's contrition is nothing to the dead.

The edge of the conflict swayed to and fro, with wild whirlpools and eddies. At times I saw around me more of the enemy than of my own men; gaps opening, swallowing, closing again with sharp convulsive energy. All around, a strange, mingled roar.

Oh say, can you see, it's really such a mess. Every inch of earth is a fighting nest. Giant pencial and lipstick tube shaped things, continue to rain and cause scream and pain, and the arctic stains from silver blue to bloody red.

One of your northmen hit me with a morningstar during the battle on the Green Fork. I escaped him by falling off my horse. (Tyrion)

The clans began to bombard the outer force field with rockets, missiles, nukes, and harsh language.

I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the North; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots as a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife, 'Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.

Now at last the slowly gathered, long-pent-up fury of the storm broke upon us. Four or five millions of men met each other in the first shock of the most merciless of all the wars of which record has been kept.