When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains and the women come out to cut up what remains jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains and go to your gawd like a soldier.

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 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.

Remember as long as you live that nothing but strict truth can carry you through the world with either your conscience or your honor unwounded.

Here bring your wounded hearts here tell your anguish Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.

My father was an immigrant who literally walked across Europe to get out of Russia. He fought in World War I. He was wounded in action. My father was a great success even though he never had money. He was a very determined man a great role model.

Where do you find the strength to brave a barrage of enemy fire and to bring your wounded friends to safety at great risk to your own life? Conviction.

I'd like to be a wounded leading man. Instead of a pillar of strength I'd be the scared one.

Acting the arts in general is a magnet for the wounded of society.

I'm pretty upfront about my love and admiration for the military. One of the perks of making movies is that you get to sort of follow your own passions and I believe quite passionately that we don't pay enough attention and respect to our veterans. Not just our wounded veterans but all veterans.

I have been wounded like this since about half past eight this morning and I will tell you how it happened.

There is always inequality in life. Some men are killed in a war and some men are wounded and some men never leave the country. Life is unfair.

Show me your hands. Do they have scars from giving? Show me your feet. Are they wounded in service? Show me your heart. Have you left a place for divine love?

For us artists there waits the joyous compromise through art with all that wounded or defeated us in daily life in this way not to evade destiny as the ordinary people try to do but to fulfil it in its true potential - the imagination.

It is usually the imagination that is wounded first rather than the heart it being much more sensitive.

Take for example the African jungle the home of the cheetah. On whom does the cheetah prey? The old the sick the wounded the weak the very young but never the strong. Lesson: If you would not be prey you had better be strong.

With the help of a friend I got father into a wagon when the crowd had gone. I held his head in my lap during the ride home. I believed he was mortally wounded. He had been stabbed down through the kidneys leaving an ugly wound.

Well look at what people are doing for returned veterans now. The wounded warriors. They're working hard to make the wounded veterans feel that they are loved and welcomed home unlike Vietnam. It was not a very kind gentle world then. I think we are kinder and gentler.

They died hard those savage men - like wounded wolves at bay. They were filthy and they were lousy and they stunk. And I loved them.

I hope that no more groans of wounded men and women will ever go to the ear of the Great Spirit Chief above and that all people may be one people.

I will not eat oysters. I want my food dead. Not sick. Not wounded. Dead.

I think there's a lot projected on beautiful women period. At least maybe this is just my fear but I do sometimes feel dismissed before I've even been allowed to participate. I have moments of feeling really wounded. But I am pretty optimistic and I do enjoy a lot of my life.

The passions grafted on wounded pride are the most inveterate they are green and vigorous in old age.