Bernard Cornwell > Quotes

“Life is a jest of the Gods and there is no justice. You must learn to laugh… or else you'll weep yourself to death.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Winter King

“He tolerated his fellow Englishmen, but the Welsh were cabbage-farting dwarves, the Scots were scabby arse-suckers, and the French were shriveled turds.”
― Bernard Cornwell

“I do understand that you can look into someone’s eyes,” I heard myself saying, “and suddenly know that life will be impossible without them. Know that their voice can make your heart miss a beat and that their company is all your happiness can ever desire and that their absence will leave your soul alone, bereft and lost.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Winter King

“fate is inexorable”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Winter King

“Wyrd bith ful araed (Fate is inexorable).”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Last Kingdom

“Pelos ossos de Deus, Tom, o diabo fez um serviço ruim quando trepou com sua mãe.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Archer's Tale

“You'll call me a damned Jew, a Christ murderer, a secret worshipper of pigs and a kidnapper of christian children.' This was all said cheerfully. 'How absurd! Who would want to kidnap children, Christian or otherwise? Vile things. The only mercy of children is that they grow up, as my son has but then, tragically, they beget more children. We do not learn life's lessons.”
― Bernard Cornwell, Unknown Book 13021342

“‎Our ancestors took this land. They took it and made it and held it. We do not give up what our ancestors gave us. They came across the sea and they fought here, and they built here and they're buried here. This is our land, mixed with our blood, strengthened with our bone. Ours!”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Last Kingdom

“Pride makes a man, it drives him, it is the shield wall around his reputation... Men die, they said, but reputation does not die.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Last Kingdom

“Shun epic verse.”
― Bernard Cornwell

“She was as faithful as a morning mist, as hard as a sword-bayonet, and that, he thought, made her a suitable reward for a soldier.”
― Bernard Cornwell

“Who do you serve?” Lanferelle asked.
“Sir John Cornerwailled,” Hook said proudly.
Lanferelle was pleased. “Sir John! Ah, there's a man. His mother must have slept with a Frenchman.”
― Bernard Cornwell, Azincourt

“Acho que o Santo Graal é um sonho que os homens têm, um sonho de que é possível tornar o mundo perfeito. Se ele existisse, todos nós teríamos sabido que o sonho não pode se transformar em realidade.”
― Bernard Cornwell, Heretic

“Eure Götter sind Götzen", sagte er, "Auswürfe des Teufels, schreckliche Unwesen, die Dunkelheit über die Welt bringen. Unser Gott aber ist mächtig und herrlich."
Beweis es", sagte Ivar.
Plötzlich wurde es still. Der König, seine Priester und die Mönche starrten Ivar fassungslos an.
Beweis es", wiederholte Ivar. Seine Männer unterstützen murmelnd die Forderung.
König Edmund blinzelte und schien ratlos. Doch dann hatte er eine Idee. Er zeigte auf die Ledertafel mit dem Bild des heiligen Sebastians. "Unser Gott ersparte diesem gesegneten Mann den Tod durch Pfeile", sagte er. "Das müsste Beweis genug sein."
Aber dann ist er trotzdem gestorben", bemerkte Ivar.
Nur, weil es Gott so wollte."
Ivar dachte nach. "Was meint Ihr, würde Euer Gott auch Euch vor meinen Pfeilen schützen?", fragte er.
Wenn es sein Wille ist, ja."
Dann sollten wir es versuchen", schlug Ivar vor. "Wir beschießen Euch mit Pfeilen, und wenn Ihr überlebt, werden wir uns alle waschen lassen."
[...]
Wenn der König überlebt, ist sein Gott mächtiger als unsere Götter, und wir werden uns alle zum Christentum bekennen."
[...]
Sechs Pfeile trafen, der König schrie, Blut spritzte über den Altar, er ging zu Boden und zuckte wie ein Lachs am Haken. Dann erreichten sechs weitere Pfeile ihr Ziel. Edmund zuckte noch ein bisschen weiter, und die Bogenschützen schossen weiter, obwohl ihre Treffsicherheit vor lauter Lachen sehr beeinträchtigt war, bis der König mit befiederten Schäften gespickt war wie ein stacheliger Igel. Er war eindeutig tot, lag da mit offenem Mund, die weiße Haut blutüberströmt. Sein Gott hatte ihn schmählich im Stich gelassen. Heute wird diese Geschichte natürlich anders erzählt.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Last Kingdom

“Fiat voluntas tua,”
― Bernard Cornwell, Heretic

“And you look bloody young to be a sergeant"
"I was born late, sir”
― Bernard Cornwell

“Poor Uther. He believed that virtues are handed down through a man's loins! What nonsense! A child is like a calf; if the thing is born crippled you knock it smartly on the skull and serve the cow again. That's why the Gods made it such a pleasure to engender children, because so many of the little brutes have to be replaced. There's not much pleasure in the process for women, of course, but someone has to suffer and
thank the Gods it's them and not us.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Winter King

“O mundo está apodrecendo. A Igreja é corrupta e os reis são fracos. Cabe a nós fazer um mundo novo, amado por Deus, mas para fazê-lo temos de destruir o velho. Temos de tomar o poder e depois dar o poder a Deus. É por isso que estamos lutando.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Archer's Tale

“— Mas o que é que você faria com o Graal?

— Eu iria usá-lo.

— Para quê?

— Para livrar o mundo do pecado.

— Seria um trabalho notável, mas nem Cristo conseguiu realizá-lo.

— Você pára de eliminar ervas daninhas entre os vinhedos só porque elas sempre voltam a nascer?”
― Bernard Cornwell, Heretic

“Some had hurled spears first. Those spears thumped into our shields, making them unwieldy, but it hardly mattered. The leading Danes tripped on the hidden timbers and the men behind pushed the falling men forward. I kicked one in the face, feeling my iron-reinforced boot crush bone. Danes were sprawling at our feet while others tried to get past their fallen comrades to reach our line, and we were killing. Two men succeeded in reaching us, despite the smoking barricade, and one of those two feel to Wasp-Sting coming up from beneath his shield-rim. He had been swinging an ax that the man behind me caught on his shield and the Dane was still holding the war ax's shaft as I saw his eyes widen, saw the snarl of his mouth turn to agony as I saw his eyes widen, saw the snarl of his mouth turn to agony as I twisted the blade, ripping it upward, and as Cerdic, beside me, chopped his own ax down. The man with the crushed face was holding my ankle and I stabbed at him as the blood spray from Cerdic's ax blinded me. The whimpering man at my feet tried to crawl away, but Finan stabbed his sword into his thigh, then stabbed again. A Dane had hooked up his ax over the top rim of my shield and hauled it down to expose my body to a spear-thrust, but the ax rolled off the circular shield and the spear was deflected upward and I slammed Wasp-Sting forward again, felt her bite, twisted her, and Finan was keening his mad Irish song as he added his own blade to the slaughter. “Keep the shields touching!” I shouted at my men.”
― Bernard Cornwell, Death of Kings

“‎"He sang the song of the sword, keening as he fed his blade, and Rollo, standing thigh-deep in the creek, ax swinging in murderous blows, blocked the enemy's escape. The Frisians, transported from confidence to bowel-loosening fear, began to drop their weapons.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Burning Land