If you had not committed great sins, God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you.— Genghis Khan
Delighting War Cry quotations
If you're crying under fire, then you wasn't built for war.
If a pimp took your girl, then your girl was never yours.
I am tired and sick of war. Its glory is all moonshine. It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, for vengeance, for desolation. War is hell.
Organize, agitate, educate, must be our war cry.
Fool!" cried the hunchback. "You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is 'Never get involved in a land war in Asia,' but only slightly less well known is this: 'Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line.
Numbers have dehumanized us. Over breakfast coffee we read of 40,000 American dead in Vietnam. Instead of vomiting, we reach for the toast. Our morning rush through crowded streets is not to cry murder but to hit that trough before somebody else gobbles our share.
God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house.
God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them.
To die, so young to die. No, no, not I, I love the warm sunny skies, light, song, shining eyes, I want no war, no battle cry, No, no, not I.
The cries of the wounded had much diminished now, and as we staggered down the road, the reason was only too apparent, for the water was right over the tops of the shell-holes.
Even when I am gone, I shall remain in people's minds the star of their rights, my name will be the war cry of their efforts, the motto of their hopes.
Do not give a war cry, do not raise your voices, do not say a word until the day I tell you to shout. Then shout!
Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!
Every time a war ends, under a beautiful sun, in the face of a crying child;
I see a rainbow of hope over the innocent teardrops.
Sharley felt his strength ebbing away, and his weak leg throbbed painfully, but then a tingling sensation thrilled through his frame and the fighting blood of the Lindenshield clan began to roar through his veins. He drew breath and out crashed the war cry of the icemark.
Whatever the label on the parties, or the war cries issuing from the demagogues who lead them, the practical choice is between the plutocracy on the one side and a rabble of preposterous impossibilists on the other.
The cry has been that when war is declared, all opposition should be hushed.
A sentiment more unworthy of a free country could hardly be propagated.
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds.
Are we all ready? (Deimos) (Letting out a blood-chilling war cry, he and the rest of the Dolophoni ran through the caverns.) I hate their dramatics…and their decibel level. (M'Adoc)
Several hard-core Star Wars fans who had tickets for the first showing actually said that when the movie finally began, they started crying. Mainly because they realized that it's 22 years later, and they still haven't lost their virginity.
Some of our German passengers on the ship would be crying.
The Brits were the same way. They were crying, because they realized a new war was about to break out across Europe, with Hitler at the head of the goose-stepping parade.
Buried was the bloody hatchet; Buried was the dreadful war-club; Buried were all warlike weapons, And the war-cry was forgotten. Then was peace among the nations.
Then imitate the action of the tiger; stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.
The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters whips forth the childlike cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans painfully into silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we are still alive.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall with our English dead.
Cry havoc! and let loose the dogs of war, that this foul deed shall smell above the earth with carrion men, groaning for burial.
The art of plucking the goose without making it cry out has been developed to a high state of perfection at the hands of the war makers.
Once in pre-war days, when curiously-bonneted women drivers were familiar sights at the taxi-wheels, I cried out to one in my dismay: "Is there no speed limit in this mad city?" "Oh, yes, monsieur," she answered sweetly over her shoulder, "but no one has ever succeeded in reaching it."
Monopoly and privilege must be destroyed, opportunity afforded, and competition encouraged. This is Liberty's work, and Down with Authority her war-cry.
It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, more vengeance, more desolation. War is hell.
I went to see the Beatles last month.
.. And I heard 20,000 girls screaming together at the Beatles... and I couldn't hear what they were screaming, either... But you don't have to... They're screaming Me! Me! Me! Me!... I'm Me!... That's the cry of the ego, and that's the cry of this rally!... Me! Me! Me! Me!... And that's why wars get fought... ego... because enough people want to scream Pay attention to Me... Yep, you're playing their game.
Ever reviled, accursed, ne'er understood,Thou art the grisly terror of our age.
Wreck of all order, cry the multitude,Art thou, and war and murder's endless rage.O, let them cry. To them that ne'er have strivenThe truth that lies behind a word to find,To them the word's right meaning was not given.They shall continue blind among the blind.But thou, O word, so clear, so strong, so pure,Thou sayest all which I for goal have taken.I give thee to the future! Thine secureWhen each at least unto himself shall waken.Comes it in sunshine? In the tempest's thrill?I cannot tell--but it the earth shall see!I am an Anarchist! Wherefore I willNot rule, and also ruled I will not be!
The grief of the keen is no personal complaint for the death of one woman over eighty years, but seems to contain the whole passionate rage that lurks somewhere in every native of the island. In this cry of pain the inner consciousness of the people seems to lay itself bare for an instant, and to reveal the mood of beings who feel their isolation in the face of a universe that wars on them with winds and seas.
It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter.
Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace--but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have?Is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!
In most communities it is illegal to cry "fire" in a crowded assembly.
Should it not be considered serious international misconduct to manufacture a general war scare in an effort to achieve local political aims?
Here was a new generation, shouting the old cries, learning the old creeds, through a revery of long days and nights; destined finally to go out into that dirty gray turmoil to follow love and pride; a new generation dedicated more than the last to the fear of poverty and the worship of success; grown up to find all Gods dead, all wars fought, all faiths in man shaken...