Randall Jarrell Quotes

They were glued down, every last one of them. A packet of souls. Was it fate?Misfortune?Is that what glued them down like that?Of course not.Let's not be stupid.It probably had more to do with the hurled bombs, thrown down by humans hiding in the clouds.

If you're going to write about war, the ugly side is inevitable. Suffering and death are obviously part of war.

War's a profanity because, let's face it, you've got two opposing sides trying to settle their differences by killing as many of each other as they can.

War is about dead people.

Really, while gas is an awful thing to watch - the death is painful - to even watch these deaths - it's also bad to die from a bullet, a hand grenade, or a machete.

War is not about flag-waving and patriotism. War is about killing and death.

War is death's feast.

Deep in the winter plain, two armies Dig their machinery, to destroy each other. Men freeze and hunger. No one is given leave On either side, except the dead, and wounded.

Warre is deaths feast.

At the end, killing is killing. Massacring is massacring.

To me, Columbine is just as awful as Vietnam, and it's just as awful as anything else.

War is the science of destruction.

War is death. If we are to engage in war, then we should have to stare it straight in the face and call it by its rightful name.

We were not realizing that, with just a machete, you can do a genocide.

Sending our youth to war is wrong.

I am so sick of reading about another car bomb, another suicide bomber, another 10, 20, 30, 70, 100 people dead in a day, both Americans and Iraqis.

People say you favor assassination, what do you think war is? Except that it's assassination on a much larger scale, a much more horrific scale.

War is the slaughter of human beings, temporarily regarded as enemies, on as large a scale as possible.

Killing is the payoff of war.

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

War is war. The only good human being is a dead one.

The ground was strewn with the dead, the dying, and the wounded—here lay one man with his leg shot off, there another with a wound in his head, another with an arm shot off, and hundreds wounded in nearly all the various parts of the body.

How beautiful it is to make my bomb shrapnel kill the enemy. How beautiful it is to kill and be killed.

You give us the mission, we can get ‘em. We’ll rout ’em out. When we’re through with them, they will have flies walking across their eyeballs.

Wars ruin armies.