Quotes about Cowardice

Cowardice, when done correctly, can be its own kind of bravery.

It is better to be a coward for a minute than dead for the rest of your life.

Cowards can never be moral.

i sat there afraid that I might discover that the world around me is not real. then i thought: wait. i need fear that only if its true, and if it is, i must consider that while this may be bad, worse than that is living in a world that is only real because i am a coward.

It will never be known what acts of cowardice have been motivated by the fear of looking insufficiently progressive.

God will not have his work made manifest by cowards.

Any coward can sit at home and criticize a pilot for flying into a mountain in a fog. But I would rather by far die on a mountainside than in bed.

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is slicked o'er with the pale cast of thought,

O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!

FIRST MURDERER: WHERE IS THY CONSCIENCE NOW? SECOND MURDERER: In the Duke of Gloucester's purse FIRST MURDERER: So when he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out. SECOND MURDERER: Let it go; there's few or none will entertain it. FIRST MURDERER: How if it come to thee again? SECOND MURDERER: I'll not meddle with it: it is a dangerous thing: it makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; he cannot swear, but it checks him; he cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him: it is a blushing shamefast spirit that multiplies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold, that I found: it beggars any man that keeps it: it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well, endeavours to trust to himself and to live without it. FIRST MURDERER: 'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the duke.

Conscience is but a word that cowards use, Devised at first to keep the strong in awe.

To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die: to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips an scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pitch and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action. Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remember'd.

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.

Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.

Be scared. You can't help that. But don't be afraid. Ain't nothing in the woods going to hurt you unless you corner it, or it smells that you are afraid. A bear or a deer, too, has got to be scared of a coward the same as a brave man has got to be.

The test of a man is the fight that he makes, the grit that he daily shows; the way that he stands on his feet and takes fate's numerous bumps and blows. A coward can smile when there's naught to fear and nothing his progress bars, but it takes a man to stand up and cheer when the other fellow stars. It isn't the victory after all, but the fight that a brother makes. The man who, driven against the wall, still stands erect and takes the blows of fate with his head held high, bleeding and bruised and pale. He's the man who'll win in the by and by, for he isn't afraid to fail. It's the bumps you get and the shocks, you get and the jolts that your courage stands; the hours of sorrow and vain regrets, the prize that escapes your hand that tests your metal and proves your worth. It isn't the blows that you deal, it's the blows you take on this good old earth that show if your stuff is real.

Echo A son and his father were walking on the mountains. Suddenly, his son falls, hurts himself and screams: AAAhhhhhhhhhhh!!!" To his surprise, the son hears the voice repeating, somewhere in the mountain: "AAAhhhhhhhhhhh!!!" Curious, he yells: "Who are you?" He receives the answer: "Who are you?" Angered at the response, he screams: "Coward!" He receives the answer: "Coward!" He looks to his father and asks: "What's going on?" The father smiles and says: "My son, pay attention." And then he screams to the mountain: "I admire you!" The voice answers: "I admire you!" Again the man screams: "You are a champion!" The voice answers: "You are a champion!" The boy is surprised, but does not understand. Then the father explains: "People call this ECHO, but really this is LIFE. It gives you back everything you say or do. Our life is simply a reflection of our actions. If you want more love in the world, create more love in your heart. If you want more competence in your team, improve your competence. This relationship applies to everything, in all aspects of life; Life will give you back everything you have given to it." YOUR LIFE IS NOT A COINCIDENCE. IT'S A REFLECTION OF YOU!

God did not intend that we should be cowards, or delinquents, or fools, or sinners or weaklings. He created us in his own image and commanded us to be men.

Where 's the coward that would not dare To fight for such a land?

How comes it to pass, then, that we appear such cowards in reasoning, and are so afraid to stand the test of ridicule?

Sir, he [Bolingbroke] was a scoundrel and a coward: a scoundrel for charging a blunderbuss against religion and morality; a coward, because he had not resolution to fire it off himself, but left half a crown to a beggarly Scotsman to draw the trigger at his death.

To be under pressure is inescapable. Pressure takes place through all the world; war, siege, the worries of state. We all know men who grumble under these pressures and complain. They are cowards. They lack splendour. But there is another sort of man who is under the same pressure but does not complain, for it is the friction which polishes him. It is the pressure which refines and makes him noble

May coward shame distain his name, The wretch that dares not die!

Valor is of no service, chance rules all, and the bravest often fall by the hands of cowards.

The coward regards himself as cautious, the miser as thrifty.

A high heart ought to bear calamities and not flee them, since in bearing them appears the grandeur of the mind and in fleeing them the cowardice of the heart.

Conscience and cowardice are really the same thing.

Obstacles are like wild animals. They are cowards but they will bluff you if they can. If they see you are afraid of them . . . they are liable to spring upon you; but when you look them squarely in the eye, they will slink out of sight.

Conscience is a coward, and those faults it has not strength enough to prevent it seldom has justice enough to accuse.

When you disarm [the people], you commence to offend them and show that you distrust them either through cowardice or lack of confidence, and both of these opinions generate hatred.