The one minute. The soldier’s minute. In a battle, that’s all you get. One minute of everything at once. And anything before is nothing. Everything after, nothing. Nothing in comparison to that one minute.
Pick your battles. Don’t let them pick you.
Battle is a joyous thing. When we see that our cause is just, tears come to our eyes. A sweet delight fills our hearts.
You underestimate your enemy in battle, odds are you won’t live to see another.
There are things you can’t control. There are battles you lose. At the end of the day, the only thing we have is the people we trust.
In battle, choose your weapon wisely. All right? Some people choose a gun. I choose a Phillips-head screwdriver.
Battle is not a simulation. It’s blood and screams and funerals.
We’ll carry on with this fight. We can lose every battle, except the last.
We humans can get in a few good licks in battle before we surrender.
Someone once said that everyone is fighting a battle of their own, that you can’t see. But sometimes, sometimes you can see.
Running into a battle you know you’re gonna lose isn’t noble or brave; it’s selfish.
Not all battles are won on the front lines.
