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Literature
Paul: The Fremen must be brave to live at the edge of that desert.
Wellington Yueh: By all accounts. They compose poems to their knives. Their women are as fierce as the men. Even Fremen children are violent and dangerous.
Wellington Yueh: By all accounts. They compose poems to their knives. Their women are as fierce as the men. Even Fremen children are violent and dangerous.
— Dune
"Seeing that Zeus grants lordship to the Persian people, and to you, Cyrus, among them, let us, after reducing Astyages, depart from the little and rugged land which we possess and occupy one that is better. There are many such lands on our borders, and many further distant. If we take one of these, we will all have more reasons for renown. It is only reasonable that a ruling people should act in this way, for when will we have a better opportunity than now, when we are lords of so many men and of all Asia?"
Cyrus heard them, and found nothing to marvel at in their design; "Go ahead and do this," he said; "but if you do so, be prepared no longer to be rulers but rather subjects. Soft lands breed soft men; wondrous fruits of the earth and valiant warriors grow not from the same soil."
The Persians now realized that Cyrus reasoned better than they, and they departed, choosing rather to be rulers on a barren mountain side than dwelling in tilled valleys to be slaves to others.
Cyrus heard them, and found nothing to marvel at in their design; "Go ahead and do this," he said; "but if you do so, be prepared no longer to be rulers but rather subjects. Soft lands breed soft men; wondrous fruits of the earth and valiant warriors grow not from the same soil."
The Persians now realized that Cyrus reasoned better than they, and they departed, choosing rather to be rulers on a barren mountain side than dwelling in tilled valleys to be slaves to others.
Blake: What I was going to say was that I’ve been through stuff, before any of this, and I made it this far with my instincts. I can’t and won’t abandon them.
Rose: I’m going to be a bit of a bitch here. I don’t think your instincts are that good.
Blake: They weren’t good when I was first on the streets, either. But I honed them, I stayed alive and mostly whole, I refined those instincts, found people I could trust, and with their help I got to a point where I was surviving on my own. Which is something I’m proud of. I can do the same here, but I need time to get a handle on it all.
Rose: I’m going to be a bit of a bitch here. I don’t think your instincts are that good.
Blake: They weren’t good when I was first on the streets, either. But I honed them, I stayed alive and mostly whole, I refined those instincts, found people I could trust, and with their help I got to a point where I was surviving on my own. Which is something I’m proud of. I can do the same here, but I need time to get a handle on it all.
— Blake Thorburn explains this trope to Rose Thorburn, Pact
Prospero: What manner of men are these northern folk [of Asgard and Vanaheim]?
Conan: Tall and fair and blue-eyed. Their god is Ymir, the frost-giant, and each tribe has its own king. They are wayward and fierce. They fight all day and drink ale and roar their wild songs all night.
Prospero: Then I think you are like them. You laugh greatly, drink deep and bellow good songs; though I never saw another Cimmerian who drank aught but water, or who ever laughed, or ever sang save to chant dismal dirges.
Conan: Perhaps it's the land they live in. A gloomier land never was—all of hills, darkly wooded, under skies nearly always gray, with winds moaning drearily down the valleys.
Prospero: Little wonder men grow moody there.
Conan: They have no hope here or hereafter. Their gods are Crom and his dark race, who rule over a sunless place of everlasting mist, which is the world of the dead. Mitra! The ways of the Æsir were more to my liking.
Conan: Tall and fair and blue-eyed. Their god is Ymir, the frost-giant, and each tribe has its own king. They are wayward and fierce. They fight all day and drink ale and roar their wild songs all night.
Prospero: Then I think you are like them. You laugh greatly, drink deep and bellow good songs; though I never saw another Cimmerian who drank aught but water, or who ever laughed, or ever sang save to chant dismal dirges.
Conan: Perhaps it's the land they live in. A gloomier land never was—all of hills, darkly wooded, under skies nearly always gray, with winds moaning drearily down the valleys.
Prospero: Little wonder men grow moody there.
Conan: They have no hope here or hereafter. Their gods are Crom and his dark race, who rule over a sunless place of everlasting mist, which is the world of the dead. Mitra! The ways of the Æsir were more to my liking.
The other, larger group of students, adding up to maybe thirty-five of the forty kids present, was something else. They were the Sierras, the Charlottes, the Ferns and the Forrests. They were the Jessies and Bryces, the Taylor and Danny Heberts. The people who had stayed.
I just had to look at them, and I knew it. Some had dressed in new clothes, but others wore the clothes that had weathered the last few weeks and months, worn and frayed at the edges. Physically, some were frayed. They had lines in their face that spoke to weeks with a bare minimum of sleep, and both skin and hair bore the coloration that resulted from days spent outdoors.
One or two, I noted, carried weapons. One had a knife displayed visibly at his hip. A girl with a burly frame very similar to Rachel’s was sitting beneath a tree, eyes closed, her hands on a stick with an electrical tape grip. There wasn’t anything definable, only little clues that added up, and a general atmosphere about them.''
I just had to look at them, and I knew it. Some had dressed in new clothes, but others wore the clothes that had weathered the last few weeks and months, worn and frayed at the edges. Physically, some were frayed. They had lines in their face that spoke to weeks with a bare minimum of sleep, and both skin and hair bore the coloration that resulted from days spent outdoors.
One or two, I noted, carried weapons. One had a knife displayed visibly at his hip. A girl with a burly frame very similar to Rachel’s was sitting beneath a tree, eyes closed, her hands on a stick with an electrical tape grip. There wasn’t anything definable, only little clues that added up, and a general atmosphere about them.''
Video Games
"I was born into a world where every day is a battle. After a while, sidestepping death becomes routine."
— Alternate!Gerome, Fire Emblem: Awakening: The Future Past 3
"A merc lives and dies by the sword. If you're not better than the next opponent you face, they'll be the last one you face."
Pliskin/Snake: A virtual grunt of the digital age, that's just great.
Raiden: That's far more effective than live exercises.
Pliskin/Snake: You don't get injured in VR, do you? Every year, a few soldiers die in field exercises.
Raiden: There's pain sensation in VR, and even a sense of reality and urgency. The only difference is it isn't actually happening.
Pliskin/Snake: That's the way they want you to think, to remove you from the fear that goes with battle situations. War as a video game — what better way to raise the ultimate soldier?
Raiden: That's far more effective than live exercises.
Pliskin/Snake: You don't get injured in VR, do you? Every year, a few soldiers die in field exercises.
Raiden: There's pain sensation in VR, and even a sense of reality and urgency. The only difference is it isn't actually happening.
Pliskin/Snake: That's the way they want you to think, to remove you from the fear that goes with battle situations. War as a video game — what better way to raise the ultimate soldier?
Junker King: Wastelander scum! Why won't you just die?!
Odessa: Because we're stronger than you. You haven't had a real fight in thirteen years! We have 'em every bloody day!
Odessa: Because we're stronger than you. You haven't had a real fight in thirteen years! We have 'em every bloody day!
"The (Wynn) province waged war on its enemies for centuries, creating legends and ultimately a province of warriors. The war became so second nature to the province that children were able to kill before they could talk properly."
— Llevigar's Library, Wynncraft
