177 Quotes About World-war-2

Of course, there are those who blow you kisses or try to take hold of your arm, but they're definitely knocking on the wrong door.

Others, however, would look over the children as if they were produce. They’d only speak to the nearest officer, never lowering their eyes to the young ones. Instead, they looked down their noses as though to distance themselves. “I’ll take these,” Helen would see them mouth, waving a finger above the small heads. It was a moment the children would have branded on their minds, Helen was sure of it, and the pain of it turned her stomach to lead.

In November, when our nation remembers her fallen soldiers and honours the lost youth of my generation, the Prime Minister, government leaders and the hollow men of business affix paper poppies to their lapels and afford the dead of war two minutes' silence. Afterwards, they speak golden platitudes about the struggle and the heroism of that time. Yet the words they speak are meaningless because they have surrendered the values my generation built after the horrors of the Second World War.

The whiskered goddess had two natures; as Sekhmet the lioness, she was a mighty queen of sun-fire and war, and a harbinger of raw spiritual powers. As Bast the cat, she was the gentle bringer of love and domestic joy.

No law. No order. No time or space. Danger was the desert’s breath, and the landscape changed with every wind.

The Germans were an inexorable force—their tanks and motorcycles swarmed over fields and hills like mechanized ants, accompanied by hails of withering gunfire. Houses crumbled like broken matchboxes.

Whenever he closed his eyes to rest, he was quickly jarred awake by jumbled images of dead men, daggers shaped like winged human cobras, German snipers, and Eve Weathers whirling salaciously in sparkling underwear.

Hieroglyphs and dark painted figures covered the walls in patterns. Bestial, doe-eyed faces peered out above archways. Half-naked, animal-headed people. Some had wings. They knelt, crouched, played board games, raised their bare arms towards heaven.

His mind returned to a place and time he could never forget. That late afternoon lived on. It was an eternal day. Perhaps like some ancient Egyptian curse carved upon the walls of the hallowed tombs he plundered. That bloody, gold-dusted afternoon never faded. It stood like an immortal pillar in the shifting sands of his turbulent lifetime. It could not be undone. It could not be amended. That day changed his life forever.