Hawks And Doves Quotes

When cornered, desperate, or isolated, man reverts to those instincts that aim straight at survival. Quick and just. They will always be the trump cards because they are passed on more frequently from one generation to the next than the gentler genes. It is not a morality, but simple math. Among themselves, doves fight as often as hawks.

Among themselves, doves fight as often as hawks.

Someone who does not run toward the allure of love walks a road where nothing lives. But this dove here senses the love hawk floating above, and waits, and will not be driven or scared to safety.

The dove is not a coward to fear the hawk; it is simply wise.

A retaliator behaves like a hawk when he is attacked by a hawk, and like a dove when he meets a dove. When he meets another retaliator he plays like a dove. A retaliator is a conditional strategist. His behaviour depends on the behaviour of his opponent.

...to be Irish is to know the world will break your heart before you are thirty.

Sometimes thoughts merely pass through a man's head without mishap, but sometimes they fall out of his mouth on the way through.

Be innocent like a dove, strong like an ostrich, fierce like a hawk, wise like an owl, and swift like an eagle.

I wake up & it breaks my heart. I draw the blinds & the thrill of rain breaks my heart. I go outside. I ride the train, walk among the buildings, men in Monday suits. The flight of doves, the city of tents beneath the underpass, the huddled mass, old women hawking roses, & children all of them, break my heart. There’s a dream I have in which I love the world. I run from end to end like fingers through her hair. There are no borders, only wind. Like you, I was born. Like you, I was raised in the institution of dreaming. Hand on my heart. Hand on my stupid heart.

It is not a morality, but simple math. Among themselves, doves fight as often as hawks.

I do not want to sound like a hawk or a dove. If I have to choose a metaphor from the aviary, I would like to think of the owl.

Just like whiskey, the marsh dwellers bootlegged their own laws-not like those burned onto stone tablets or inscribed on documents, but deeper ones, stamped in their genes. Ancient and natural, like those hatched from hawks and doves. When cornered, desperate or isolated, man reverts to those instinct that aim straight at survival. Quick and just. They will always be the trump card because they are passed on more frequently from one generation to the next than the gentler genes It is not a morality, but simple math. Among themselves doves fight as often as hawks.

As he rested in the great hollow shell of tranquility and light, listening to its silence, it dawned upon him that ‘empty’ was the wrong word for this place. It was as full as could be: full of silence, full of light, full of peace. There

David had been photographing endangered species in the Hawaiian rainforest and elsewhere for years, and his collections of photographs and Suzie's tarot cards seemed somehow related. Because species disappear when their habitat does, he photographed them against the nowhere of a black backdrop (which sometimes meant propping up a black velvet cloth in the most unlikely places and discouraging climates), and so each creature, each plant, stood as though for a formal portrait alone against the darkness. The photographs looked like cards too, card from the deck of the world in which each creature describes a history, a way of being in the world, a set of possibilities, a deck from which cards are being thrown away, one after another. Plants and animals are a language, even in our reduced, domesticated English, where children grow like weeds or come out smelling like roses, the market is made up of bulls and bears, politics of hawks and doves. Like cards, flora and fauna could be read again and again, not only alone but in combination, in the endlessly shifting combinations of a nature that tells its own stories and colors ours, a nature we are losing without even knowing the extent of that loss.

And who am I, that I should be asking you of all people for an easy life? As you think best then Lord, but only, give me patience when my own runs out...

It is not wise to be seen out in the open by hawks, if you are a dove.

I simply wanted to remind you that a man without sleep, food and leisure is indistinguishable from a man without charity, patience or a sense of humour.

pleasant

Just as America has its camps of hawks and doves, its so-called neoconservatives, interventionists, realists, and isolationists, Chinese elites are divided. The difference, of course, is that those debates rarely occur in view of the Chinese public and the Western press. There is no Congress of elected representatives or truly open forums to discuss such matters.

The autocorrect on my phone must be a pacifist. Every time I type ''going to war'', it changes it to ''going to eat.'' Either that or it's getting kickbacks from the local restaurants.

Ancient and natural, like those hatched from hawks and doves. When cornered, desperate, or isolated, man reverts to those instincts that aim straight at survival. Quick and just. They will always be the trump cards because they are passed on more frequently from one generation to the next than the gentler genes. It is not a morality, but simple math. Among themselves, doves fight as often as hawks.

Did God mind that dreadful singing, he who made the nightingale and the lark? Probably not. Probably it was the soul of Mrs Crabtree he was listening to, the worshipping song of her heart, and that rang true as a bell.

Just like their whiskey, the marsh dwellers bootlegged their own laws—not like those burned onto stone tablets or inscribed on documents, but deeper ones, stamped in their genes. Ancient and natural, like those hatched from hawks and doves. When cornered, desperate, or isolated, man reverts to those instincts that aim straight at survival. Quick and just. They will always be the trump cards because they are passed on more frequently from one generation to the next than the gentler genes. It is not a morality, but simple math. Among themselves, doves fight as often as hawks.

Just like their whiskey, the marsh dwellers bootlegged their own laws- not like those burned onto stone tablets or inscribed on documents, but deeper ones, stamped in their genes. Ancient and natural, like those hatched from hawks and doves. When cornered, desperate, or isolated, man reverts to those instincts that aim straight at survival. Quick and just. They will always be the trump cards because they are passed on more frequently from one generation to the next than the gentler genes. It is not a morality, but simple math. Among themselves, doves fight as often as hawks.

A man who starts imagining that others think good because he does is simply out of his mind. I've helped bury a few who did think that way... nice, peaceful men who wanted no trouble and made none. When feeding time comes around there's nothing a hawk likes better than a nice, fat, peaceful dove.

The strangeness began as a prickling of my skin. First the quail went silent, then the dove. The leaves stilled, and the breeze died, and no animals moved in the brush. There was a quality to the silence like a held breath. Like the rabbit beneath the hawk’s shadow. I could feel my pulse striking my skin.

The two sat quietly on the park bench, and Dove liked it. If she sat perfectly still, neither could ruin the moment. He seemed to feel the change as well as they watched two squirrels bound about in front of them. The squirrels were adorable and brave, jumping close to Dove and Johnson—maybe because they were motionless. Dove wanted to comment on the Disneyesque scene in front of them but kept her words on the tip of her tongue, not wanting to spoil the quiet. The two squirrels sat side by side, each a mirror of the other, munching on acorns in their paws. With their fuzzy faces and sweet, black eyes, they reminded Dove of exactly why she loved the park. Next to her, Johnson sighed in contentment. The male squirrel dropped his nut and jumped quickly behind the female squirrel. Oh dear God! Don’t do it. You horny little bastard! The male squirrel refused to read Dove’s mind and started climbing on the female squirrel. Dove heard Johnson’s groan of disgust as the male began the motions of copulation. She shook her head. Fucking figures. The tender new feelings between Dove and this handsome man were now spoiled with the obscene visual of the hairy rodents humping. Johnson had to comment. “Wow. Squirrels usually engage in some style of MATING dance.” He looked around the park for other examples to prove his point. “Much like humans, they’re attracted to the smell of the GENITALS and fancy tail motions.” Dove tried to figure out where she belonged in this conversation that he apparently thought was acceptable small talk. The obscene, public intercourse ended with one final, furry pump. The female never even dropped her nut. “Well, I guess that was a dinner date.” Dove covered her mouth and shook her head. She prayed for a flock of hungry hawks to swoop in and eat the little Snow White porn stars so she and Mr. Gorgeouspants could just stop talking about nether regions for a minute. “This time of the year, NUTS are more important than anything else.

It was now 1952, so some of the claims had been held by a string of disconnected, unrecorded persons for four centuries. Most before the Civil War. Others squatted on the land more recently, especially after the World Wars, when men came back broke and broke-up. The marsh did not confine them but defined them and, like any sacred ground, kept their secrets deep. No one cared that they held the land because nobody else wanted it. After all, it was wasteland bog. Just like their whiskey, the marsh dwellers bootlegged their own laws—not like those burned onto stone tablets or inscribed on documents, but deeper ones, stamped in their genes. Ancient and natural, like those hatched from hawks and doves. When cornered, desperate, or isolated, man reverts to those instincts that aim straight at survival. Quick and just. They will always be the trump cards because they are passed on more frequently from one generation to the next than the gentler genes. It is not a morality, but simple math. Among themselves, doves fight as often as hawks.

In the old days, a liberal and a conservative (a “dove” and a “hawk,” say) got their data from one of three nightly news programs, a local paper, and a handful of national magazines, and were thus starting with the same basic facts (even if those facts were questionable, limited, or erroneous). Now each of us constructs a custom informational universe, wittingly (we choose to go to the sources that uphold our existing beliefs and thus flatter us) or unwittingly (our app algorithms do the driving for us). The data we get this way, pre-imprinted with spin and mythos, are intensely one-dimensional.

[Sings:] The pow’r of love, O ’tis a curious thing: It changeth hawks into a gentle dove, It maketh one man weep, another sing, More than a feeling: ’tis the pow’r of love. ’Tis tougher e’en than diamonds, rich like cream, It makes a bad one good, a wrong one right, ’Tis stronger, harder than a wench’s dream, The pow’r of love shall keep thee home at night. When first thou feelest it, may make thee sad, When next thou feelest it, may be profound, Yet when thou learnest this, thou shalt be glad: It is this power makes the world go ’round. ’Tis strong and sudden, sent by heav’n above, It may just save thy life, this pow’r of love.

I began to wonder, as spring wore on to summer in that my fifteenth year, if I would ever meet anyone who could look me in the eye, who could say sorry without making a joke of it, who could cry without embarrassment, have a row and still stay friends. As for mentioning the word 'love', well... it provoked sniggers, not much else. The hunger of it all ached inside me. Maybe Mother knew. Maybe she could guess what I never told her, could not even tell myself; that I was desperate for something more than smiles and jokes and surfaces; that I was beginning to wonder if it was possible to stretch out your hand in the darkness and find it grasped by another hand, not evaded, rejected, or ignored.

You have the bravest heart I've ever known You have the strongest will I've seen With every step forward that you take you touch my soul With every new breath you will succeed A soul like an angel With strength from above Someone who understands a pain this deep But never gives up Fierce as a hawk Gentle as a dove You never walk alone again my friend You're surrounded by love You've already won every future race Even before they have begun It doesn't matter where you'll place. You already proved that you're a world-class champion Life, cycle, swim or run. You have the bravest heart I've ever known You have the strongest will I've seen With every step forward that you take you touch my soul With every new breath you will succeed. A soul like an angel With strength from above Someone who understands a pain this deep But never gives up I need a heart that is finding I need a voice that speaks the truth I need a spirit that can lift my soul I need someone like you I need a spirit that is shining Someone who can move my world Someone who knows just what to do I need a soul that is always on my side I need someone like... you.

The government has a great need to restore its credibility, to make people forget its history and rewrite it. The intelligentsia have to a remarkable degree undertaken this task. It is also necessary to establish the "lessons" that have to be drawn from the war, to ensure that these are conceived on the narrowest grounds, in terms of such socially neutral categories as "stupidity" or "error" or "ignorance" or perhaps "cost." Why? Because soon it will be necessary to justify other confrontations, perhaps other U.S. interventions in the world, other Vietnams. But this time, these will have to be successful intervention, which don't slip out of control. Chile, for example. It is even possible for the press to criticize successful interventions - the Dominican Republic, Chile, etc. - as long as these criticisms don't exceed "civilized limits," that is to say, as long as they don't serve to arouse popular movements capable of hindering these enterprises, and are not accompanied by any rational analysis of the motives of U.S. imperialism, something which is complete anathema, intolerable to liberal ideology. How is the liberal press proceeding with regard to Vietnam, that sector which supported the "doves"? By stressing the "stupidity" of the U.S. intervention; that's a politically neutral term. It would have been sufficient to find an "intelligent" policy. The war was thus a tragic error in which good intentions were transmuted into bad policies, because of a generation of incompetent and arrogant officials. The war's savagery is also denounced, but that too, is used as a neutral category...Presumably the goals were legitimate - it would have been all right to do the same thing, but more humanely... The "responsible" doves were opposed to the war - on a pragmatic basis. Now it is necessary to reconstruct the system of beliefs according to which the United States is the benefactor of humanity, historically committed to freedom, self-determination, and human rights. With regard to this doctrine, the "responsible" doves share the same presuppositions as the hawks. They do not question the right of the United States to intervene in other countries. Their criticism is actually very convenient for the state, which is quite willing to be chided for its errors, as long as the fundamental right of forceful intervention is not brought into question. ... The resources of imperialist ideology are quite vast. It tolerates - indeed, encourages - a variety of forms of opposition, such as those I have just illustrated. It is permissible to criticize the lapses of the intellectuals and of government advisers, and even to accuse them of an abstract desire for "domination," again a socially neutral category not linked in any way to concrete social and economic structures. But to relate that abstract "desire for domination" to the employment of force by the United States government in order to preserve a certain system of world order, specifically, to ensure that the countries of the world remain open insofar as possible to exploitation by U.S.-based corporations - that is extremely impolite, that is to argue in an unacceptable way.

It's OK to be anti-war.' However, it's not OK to be completely delusional and detached from reality.

Just like their whiskey, the marsh dwellers bootlegged their own laws – not like those burned onto stone tablets or inscribed on documents, but deeper ones, stamped in their genes. Ancient and natural, like those hatched from hawks and doves. When cornered, desperate, or isolated, man reverts to those instincts that aim straight at survival. Quick and just. They will always be the trump cards because they are passed on more frequently from one generation to the next than the gentler genes. It is not a morality, but simple math. Among themselves, doves fight as often as hawks.

To build coalitions across conflict lines, Kelman finds that it’s rarely effective to send hawks to negotiate. You need the doves in each group to sit down, listen to each other’s perspectives, identify their common goals and methods, and engage in joint problem solving.

they don’t even mention the logical possibility of a third position: namely, that the United States did not have the right, either the legal or the moral right, to intervene by force in the internal affairs of Vietnam. We leave to history the task of judging the debate between the hawks and the respectable doves, but the third position, opposed to the other two, is excluded from discussion.

To think of the China story during the Trump administration as a binary fight between hawks and doves, panda sluggers and panda hug-gers, the blue team and the red team, or any other such construction is too simplistic.

The body of Christ—yes, we may be; broken, we certainly are. And we may be limping along to begin with, but when Christ takes us into his hands he breaks us again—tears us to shreds at times. He has to grab hold of our pride… arrogance… contempt… cynicism… hardheartedness… He has to break those things up, or there would never be any humility, no compassion, no gratitude.

That word ‘well’—it’s an old word, and it means the same as ‘whole’.

The brokenness of his body (and we are his body) is healed in our love, in our common life—which is his love, his life, in us.

Tis Christ can heal him; there is no other herb of grace to touch the heart's true core.

It was one of those brief spells of complete happiness that come once in a rare while, an unlooked for gift of God, when the forces of darkness, of sorrow and temptation seem miraculously held back, a breathing space in the battle.

Silence is full of speech.

There is no healing without hope. Despair is life’s direst enemy. Despair is living death.

the trouble was he had nothing to say, but he loved saying it.

What changed Peres was the world. He was visiting many countries and listening, and he realized that he did not want Israel to be the new South Africa. For different reasons and in different ways, both Rabin and Peres realized that the conflict had to end. The predictable hawks they were became hesitant doves.

A dove, pursued by a hawk, asked a king called Sivi to save it. As soon as the king offered it protection, the hawk shouted, ‘What will I eat then?’ Sivi then offered the hawk any other dove to feed on. ‘That is not fair to the other birds, is it, O king?’ asked the hawk. The king then offered his own flesh, equal in measure to the dove’s weight. ‘How much flesh can you give king? Sooner or later, you will die, and the dove will have to fend for itself. Unless one creature dies, another creature cannot survive, that is the natural cycle of life,’ said the hawk. ‘Was I wrong to save the dove?’ wondered the king—his inner voice said he was not. So what must a man do? What must a king do? Save doves and let hawks starve or save hawks by allowing them to kill doves? At that moment, the king realized how different man was from animal. Animals spent their entire lives focused on survival. Humans could look beyond survival, seek meaning in life, harm others to save themselves, help others by sacrificing themselves. Humanity was blessed with a faculty that enabled it to empathize and exploit. It was this unique faculty that allowed humans to forsake the jungle and establish civilization.

If she put them to bed and left them, there would be pandemonium. Cecily would not stay in bed at all and romped gaily about the room, and Beth and Mary would begin to argue, starting with a simple remark like ‘Beth, I can’t get to sleep with you sniffing,’ and finishing with a general commotion of crying and quarrelling. So Mother resigned herself to stay with them as they fell asleep, and she sat, with the littlest one snuggled on her lap, in the room dimly glowing with candle-light, softly astir with the breathing and sighing and turning over of children settling for the night.

I mean loving the moon in the sky but leaving it there. Because even suppose you managed to bring it down, that would make the earth darker and not brighter, however good an idea it might have seemed when you first entertained it.

God’s justice is subordinate to his love, for his justice is a property of his character, but his love is his essential self. For do not the Scriptures say, “God is love,” but never, “God is justice”?

When cornered, desperate, or isolated, man reverts to those instincts that aim straight at survival. Quick and just. They will always be the trump cards because they are passed on more frequently from one generation to the next than the gentler genes. It is not a morality, but simple math. Among themselves, doves fight as often as hawks. •

I am not a foe. Do not fly me as a lamb flies the wolf, or a dove the hawk. It is for love I pursue you. ​— ​THOMAS BULLFINCH, AGE OF FABLE: VOLS. I & II: STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Now I understand those days were not really a beginning but a continuation. A monster is hard to see and even harder to kill. It takes time to grow so huge, time to crawl up into the open air. People will tell you it’s not there; you’re imagining things. But a book is a book. Pages are pages. Hawks are hawks. Doves are doves. Hatred is always hatred.

The hawks (shorthand for policymakers who tended to worry more about inflation) did not sit at a different table than the doves (policymakers who tended to worry more about growth and employment).

Although FOMC members, hawks and doves alike, agreed it was time to wind down our emergency lending programs, they differed on when to begin rolling back our accommodative monetary policy.

the hawks and doves alike exuded pessimism.

In the long run, evolutionary forces will cause the proportion of hawk-types in the population to tend toward 5/6 and the proportion of dove-types to tend toward 1/6. These exact proportions are due to the particular numbers we used in the payoff matrix. But whenever the cost of conflict is higher than the value of the prize, evolutionary forces will drive the population to a point where both hawks and doves coexist.

Since inflation results from economic strength, the efforts of central bankers to control it amount to trying to take some of the steam out of the economy. They can include reducing the money supply, raising interest rates and selling securities. When the private sector purchases securities from the central bank, money is taken out of circulation; this tends to reduce the demand for goods and thus discourages inflation. Central bankers who are strongly dedicated to keeping inflation under control are called “hawks.” They tend to do the things listed above sooner and to a greater extent. The problem, of course, is that actions of this kind are anti-stimulative. They can accomplish the goal of keeping inflation under control, but they also restrain the growth of the economy, with effects that can be less than beneficial. The issue is complicated by the fact that in the last few decades, many central banks have been given a second responsibility. In addition to controlling inflation, they are expected to support employment, and, of course, employment does better when the economy is stronger. So central banks encourage this through stimulative actions such as increasing the money supply, decreasing interest rates, and injecting liquidity into the economy by buying securities—as in the recent program of “quantitative easing.” Central bankers who focus strongly on encouraging employment and lean toward these actions are called “doves.

A hawk, an eagle and a dove spread their words over one universal world.

improve the public discourse, we need to think like a deficit owl. Those hawks and doves we met in Chapter 3 spend too much time squawking about red ink and not enough time helping the public to see what that red ink means for the rest of us. To see the full picture, you have to be able to look at the flow of payments from a different angle. That’s what makes the deficit owl a better budget bird. (Say that three times fast.) The owl has full range of motion: it can turn its head to see what the others are missing. A handy guy to have around if you want the entire picture.

Doves try to fly, without feathers, hawks and eagles all the same, but a white owl silently guards.