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Bernard Cornwell Quotes
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The defenders were hunted down and killed. Even when they tried to surrender, they were killed, for their fortress had resisted and that was the fate of garrisons that showed defiance.
Bernard Cornwell
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They thought war was a game and every defeat only made them more eager to play.
Bernard Cornwell
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Sir Thomas was a sentimental man. He loved Soldiers. He had once thought all men who wore the red coat were rogues and thieves, the scourings of the gutters, and since he had joined the army he had discovered he was right, but he had also learned to love them. He loved their patience, their ferocity, their endurance, and their bravery.
Bernard Cornwell
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We celebrate kings, we honor great men, we admire aristocrats, we applaud actors, we shower gold on portrait painters and we even, sometimes, reward soldiers, but we always despise merchants.
Bernard Cornwell
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"The Major's a grand big fellow, so he is."
"So what are we? The damned?"
"We're that, sure enough, but we're also Riflemen, sir. You and me, we're the best God-damned Soldiers in the world."
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The real noise was of musketry, the pounding cough of volley fire, the relentless noise, and if he listened hard he could hear the balls striking on muskets and pounding into flesh. He could also hear the cries of the wounded and the screams of officers' horses put down by the balls. And he was amazed, as he always was, by the courage of the French. They were being struck hard, yet they stayed. They stayed behind a straggling heap of dead men, they edged aside to let the wounded crawl behind, they reloaded and fired, and all the time the volleys kept coming.
Bernard Cornwell
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A charge of knights was supposed to be thundering death on hooves, a flail of metal driven by the ponderous weight of men, horses and armor, and properly done, it was a mass maker of widows.
Bernard Cornwell
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Good plain soldiering wins wars. Doing mundane things well is what counts.
Bernard Cornwell
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I think the Holy Grail is a dream that men have, a dream that the world can be made perfect. And if it existed, then we'd all know the dream can't come true.
Bernard Cornwell
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He had been a tough, cheerful youngster, the sort who collected birds' eggs, scrapped with other boys and climbed the church tower on a dare, and now he was a tough cheerful young man who thought that being an officer in Lawford's regiment was just about the finest thing life could afford. He liked soldiering and he liked soldiers.
Bernard Cornwell
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He was confused. He was in love with a woman he did not know, except he knew her loyalty was to the enemy. Yet Denmark did not feel like an enemy, though it was. And he was a Soldier still, and Soldiers, he reckoned, fought for those who could not fight for themselves, and that meant he should be fighting for Astrid's folk and not his own. But that was too great a wrench to contemplate.
Bernard Cornwell
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"They're not going, sir. Not going South."
"And who made that decision, Sergeant?"
"We all did, sir."
"Since when, Sergeant, has this army been a... a democracy?"
"A what, sir?"
"Since when did Sergeants outrank Lieutenants?"
Bernard Cornwell
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"The door is locked, Captain."
"Then I'll break it down."
"It is a shrine."
"Then I'll say a prayer of forgiveness after I've knocked it down."
Bernard Cornwell
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They were thieves and murderers and fools and rapists and drunkards. Not one had joined for love of country, and certainly not for love of their King [...] They were paid pitifully, fined for every item they lost, and the few pennies they managed to keep they usually gambled away. They were feckless rogues, as violent as hounds and as coarse as swine, but they had two things.
They had pride.
And they had the precious ability to fire platoon volleys. They could fire those half company volleys faster than any other army in the world. Stand in front of these recoats and the balls came thick as hail. It was death to be in their way and seven French battlions were now in death's forecourt and the South Essex was tearing them to ribbons.
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Here, in this filthy stench of powder smoke, he felt at home. Other men learned how to plough fields or to shape wood, but Sharpe had learned how to use a musket or rifle, sword or bayonet, and how to turn an enemy's flank or assault a fortress.
Bernard Cornwell
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You can keep your sword, for you fought proper. Like a proper soldier. Take your blade to paradise, and tell them you were killed by another proper soldier.
Bernard Cornwell
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There's no chance of cheering him up, sir. He likes being miserable, so he does, and the bastard will get over it.
Bernard Cornwell
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If he had learned one thing as a Soldier it was that any decision, even a bad one, was better than none.
Bernard Cornwell
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Any officer given the money to buy promotion and lucky enough to possess relations who could put him in the way of advancement was bound to rise, but even the less fortunate men who resented Wellesley's privileges were forced to admit that the young Colonel had a natural and chilling authority, and maybe, some thought, even a talent for soldiering. He was certainly dedicated enough to his chosen trade if that was any sign of talent.
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"The rules of chivalry, my lord, ensure my protection."
"Chivalry? Chivalry? I have heard it mentioned in songs, madame, but this is war. Our task is to punish the followers of Charles of Blois for rebelling against their lawful lord. Punishment and chivalry do not mix."
Bernard Cornwell
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You're a light company, and that means you can go where other Soldier's can't. It makes you an elite. You know what that means? It means you're the best men in the bloody army, and right now the army needs its best men. It needs you.
Bernard Cornwell
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"It is not wise, I think, to mix private revenge with war."
"Of course it's not wise, but it's bloody enjoyable. Enjoying yourself, Sergeant?"
"Never been happier, sir."
Bernard Cornwell
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I remember one other battle, gentlemen, which almost matched our recent victory in carnage. After Assaye I had to thank a young Sergeant; today we salute the same man, a Captain. Gentlemen, I give you Sharpe's Eagle.
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"So I do my duty, and land in the shit."
"You have at last seized the essence of soldiering."
Bernard Cornwell
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"Our guide, a fisherman. A good fellow."
"He doesn't hate us?"
"Hate us?"
"I keep being told how the Spanish hate us, sir."
"He hates the French, like I do, Sharpe. If there is one constancy in this vale of tears, it is always hate the damned French, always."
Bernard Cornwell
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Quote of the day
Eroticism is assenting to life even in death.
Georges Bataille
Bernard Cornwell
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Born:
February 23, 1944
(age 80)
Bio:
Bernard Cornwell is an English author of historical novels. He is best known for his novels about Napoleonic Wars rifleman Richard Sharpe.
Known for:
The Last Kingdom (2004)
Warriors of the Storm (2015)
The Empty Throne (2014)
Death of Kings (2011)
Most used words:
men
sir
sharpe
god
army
soldiers
fight
love
thought
french
war
bloody
young
rifles
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