“He who fights, can lose. He who doesn’t fight, has already lost.”

There are times when you have to choose between being human and having good taste.

He who speaks of enemies , himself is the enemy.

When the praying does no good, insurance does help.

For once you must try not to shirk the facts: mankind is kept alive by bestial acts.

When you name yourself, you always name another.

For time flows on, and if it did not, it would be a bad prospect for those who do not sit at golden tables.

General, your tank is a powerful vehicle It smashes down forests and crushes a hundred men. But it has one defect: It needs a driver.

Only bad generals need heroes.

I don’t trust him. We’re friends.

But something’s missing.

Realist writing, of which history offers many widely varying examples, is likewise conditioned by the question of how, when and for what class it is made use of.

One must live well to know what living is.

For the task assigned them Men aren’t smart enough or sly Any rogue can blind them With a clever lie.

The first time it was reported that our friends were being butchered there was a cry of horror. Then a hundred were butchered. But when a thousand were butchered and there was no end to the butchery, a blanket of silence spread.

Do not fear death so much but rather the inadequate life.

People cannot remain good unless good is expected of them.

Yes, I was in that game where George Brett hit that home run. Billy saw there was too much pine tar on the bat and he went to the umpire, the next thing we knew they were fighting about it.

What happens in Senate fight club stays in Senate fight club.

Anybody who thinks I’m taking this fight for a paycheck doesn’t know me. My whole life I’ve been achieving the impossible.

The forces of moderation and democracy must, and will, prevail against extremism and dictatorship. I will not be intimidated… Despite threats of death, I will not acquiesce to tyranny, but rather lead the fight against it.

I’m interested in questions my son asks me, like, “Why do animals fight? Why do you have to leave us to go on the road?” Everything he asks gets me thinking.

I know animals more gallant than the African warthog, but none more courageous. He is the peasant of the plains – the drab and dowdy digger in the earth.

I wouldn’t wanna fight me, because I know it wouldn’t be a good outcome for both.

The radios are going to dictate. That’s another fight. That’s another story there. I wish they just let it be.