Tad Williams Quotes

There is nothing glamorous or romantic about war. It's mostly about random pointless death and misery.

War, at the best, is terrible, and this war of ours, in its magnitude and in its duration, is one of the most terrible.

... though not invariably the worst choice, war is always an obscene horror.

There is nothing worse than war in the summetime.

No study is possible on the battlefield.

I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.

War is sweet to those who have not experienced it.

War is by no means something glamorous, and I don't think that should ever be forgotten.

War is hell. Hollywood fantasizes about it and makes it look good... war sucks.

War is at its best barbarism.

I have come to believe there is nothing in the lives of human beings more terrifying than war and nothing more important than for those of us who have experienced it to share its awful truth

War is terrible. There is nothing romantic about war.

A whole week, a single campaign, a month, a week, even a day was far more than enough to cut a company or platoon to ribbons or cripple a man for life: it needed only a quarter of an hour.

This is what war does. Right here, in my hands. This is war.

The drama can only be brought to its climax in one of two ways -- through the selective brutality of terrorism or the impartial horrors of war.

War tears, rends. War rips open, eviscerates. War scorches. War dismembers. War ruins.

That is the explanation of war, an outrage by humanity upon humanity in despite of humanity.

War is life multiplied by some number that no one has ever heard of.

People who are anxious to bring on war don't know what they are bargaining for; they don't see all the horrors that must accompany such an event.

War is an unpredictable beast. Once unleashed, it runs like a rabid dog, ravening friend or foe alike. It can drag on for years, a slow attrition of nerve and fortitude, or be over in one brilliant flash, an extravagant conflagration of flame and blood and waste.

The brazen throat of war.

War was the ultimate chaos, a pounding, soul-destroying snarl, ending in blown-apart men lying unburied on the cold earth. There was nothing more cosmically chaotic than war.

Have you ever asked yourself, do monsters make war, or does war make monsters?

How vile and despicable war seems to me! I would rather be hacked to pieces than take part in such an abominable business.

The lamp of war is kindled here, not to be extinguished but by torrents of blood.