Pyrrhic Victory Quotes

For upon reaching his destination, a man with a past full of misfortunes can both taste the bitter drops of his sorrow and grin in triumph despite them. In reaching the desired end of his voyage there is an outbreak of joy. Even in a pyrrhic victory, a man of past and present tragedies experiences the sweetness of that unfamiliar emotion.

You didn’t win the game of life by losing the least. That would be one of those—what were they called again?—Pyrrhic victories. Real winning was having the most to lose, even if it meant you might lose it all. Even though it meant you would lose it all, sooner or later.

Loving a guarded girl, I had realized, was a pyrrhic victory. The rare moments of happiness came at too great a cost.

LAW 9 WIN THROUGH YOUR ACTIONS, NEVER THROUGH ARGUMENT JUDGMENT Any momentary triumph you think you have gained through argument is really a Pyrrhic victory: The resentment and ill will you stir up is stronger and lasts longer than any momentary change of opinion. It is much more powerful to get others to agree with you through your actions, without saying a word. Demonstrate, do not explicate.

The exegesis Fat labored on month after month struck me as a Pyrrhic victory if there ever was one — in this case an attempt by a beleaguered mind to make sense out of the inscrutable. Perhaps this is the bottom line to mental illness: incomprehensible events occur; your life becomes a bin for hoax-like fluctuations of what used to be reality. And not only that — as if that weren't enough — but you, like Fat, ponder forever over these fluctuations in an effort to order them into a coherency, when in fact the only sense they make is the sense you impose on them, out of necessity to restore everything into shapes and processes you can recognize. The first thing to depart in mental illness is the familiar. And what takes its place is bad news because not only can you not understand it, you also cannot communicate it to other people. The madman experiences something, but what it is or where it comes from he does not know.

Narcissistic pleasure seekers routinely avoid developing the humility required to manufacture a life of full measure. Shallow persons such as me hide their insecurities behind a false persona of bravado, boasting of their inconsequential deeds, pyrrhic victories, and adamant refusals to tackle any task that they fear.

God save me from another such victory.

George, you won,' said Guillam, as they walked slowly towards the car. 'Did I?' said Smiley. 'Yes. Yes, well I suppose I did.

The hope that fuels the pursuit of endless economic growth – that billions of consumers in India & China will one day enjoy the lifestyles of Europeans and Americans – is as absurd & dangerous a fantasy as anything dreamt up by Al-Qaeda. It condemns the global environment to early destruction & looks set to create reservoirs of nihilistic rage & disappointment among hundreds of millions of have-nots – the bitter outcome of the universal triumph of Western Modernity, which turns the revenge of the East into something darkly ambiguous, and all its victories truly Pyrrhic.

A pyrrhic victory. And here I was, pretty sure that no cost was too great to just be able to hold her. It kind of scared me what I’d pay.

A victory over others is a Pyrrhic victory; however, a victory over himself is the only truth.

They’d been learning about the phrase ‘pyrrhic victory’, which came from Roman times and meant that you’d won something, like a battle, but in order to win, you had to lose so much that you really hadn’t won at all.

Todavía se prolongó la lucha, y se amontonaron los muertos. Pero al final de la mañana, después de una batalla que mereció canciones, los guerreros de las Tierras Fértiles pudieron mirar su victoria. Eso que quedaba de ellos. Esos pocos vivos, esa montaña de muertos. Eso que no se podía reír, ni amar, ni beber, era una victoria.

We are beginning to learn that intangibles have more specific gravity than we suspected, that ideas can generate as much forward thrust as Atlas missiles. We may win a victory in exploring the infinities of outer space, but it will be a Pyrrhic victory unless we can also explore the infinities of our inner spirit. We have supersensitive thermographs to show us the slightest variations in skin temperature. No devices can teach us the irrelevance of skin color. WE can transplant a heart from one person to another in a brilliant feat of surgical virtuosity. Now we are ready to try it the hard way: transplanting understanding, compassion, and love from one person to another.

Another such victory over the Romans, and we are undone.

I asked myself in the aftermath of the Siege of Terra whether the so-called victory was worth the cost. Now I wonder if we won at all.

pyrrhic victory is not, as is sometimes thought, a hollow triumph. It is one won at a huge cost to the victor.

Finally, I opened my eyes. A Pyrrhic victory. And here I was, pretty sure that no cost was too great to just be able to hold her. It kind of scared me what I'd pay.

Loving a guarded girl, I had realized, was a Pyrrhic victory. The rare moments of happiness came at too great a cost. But there she was, always in my dreams - beautiful and bare - letting me ride her and lose myself in her lips and scent.

Walking a short way back along the embankment, almost to where the cross stood, Smiley took another look at the bridge, as if to establish whether anything had changed, but clearly it had not, and though the wind appeared a little stronger, the snow was still swirling in all directions.

I won the vote but shunned the soft parade [...] I won every battle and lost the war" (Geronimo)

The woman thought a moment; her voice came up through her bandaged face afflicted with subterranean melodies: "I'm sharing the fate of the women of my time who challenged men to battle." "To your vast surprise it was just like all battles," he answered, adopting her formal diction. "Just like all battles." She thought this over. "You pick a set-up, or else win a Pyrrhic victory, or you're wrecked and ruined—you're a ghostly echo from a broken wall.

Fukushima, Japan. The disaster involving the three General Electric–built reactors on the northeastern coast of Honshu followed a now familiar course, this time played out live on television: a loss of coolant led to reactor meltdown, a dangerous buildup of hydrogen gas, and several catastrophic explosions. No one was killed or injured by the immediate release of radiation, but three hundred thousand people were evacuated from the surrounding area, which will remain contaminated for decades to come. During the early stages of the emergency cleanup, it became clear that robots were incapable of operating in the highly radioactive environment inside the containment buildings of the plant. Japanese soldiers were sent in to do the work, in another Pyrrhic victory of bio-robots over technology.

The Escalation Game is not an exotic brainteaser. Real life presents us with quandaries in which we are, as the saying goes, in for a penny, in for a pound. They include long-running labor strikes, dueling lawsuits, and literal wars of attrition, in which each nation feeds men and matériel into the maw of the war machine hoping the other side will exhaust itself first. The common rationale is “We fight so that our boys will not have died in vain,” a textbook example of the sunk-cost fallacy but also a tactic in the pathetic quest for a Pyrrhic victory. Many of the bloodiest wars in history were wars of attrition, showing once again how the infuriating logic of game theory may explain some of the tragedies of the human condition. Though persisting with a certain probability may be the least bad option once one is trapped in an Escalation Game, the truly rational strategy is not to play in the first place.

The hallmark of egotistical love, even when it masquerades as altruistic love, is the negative answer to the question ‘Do I want my love to be happy more than I want him to be with me?’ As soon as we find ourselves working at being indispensable, rigging up a pattern of vulnerability in our loved ones, we ought to know that our love has taken the socially sanctioned form of egotism. Every wife who slaves to keep herself pretty, to cook her husband’s favourite meals, to build up his pride and confidence in himself at the expense of his sense of reality, to be his closest and effectively his only friend, to encourage him to reject the consensus of opinion and find reassurance only in her arms is binding her mate to her with hoops of steel that will strangle them both. Every time a woman makes herself laugh at her husband’s often-told jokes she betrays him. The man who looks at his woman and says ‘What would I do without you?’ is already destroyed. His woman’s victory is complete, but it is Pyrrhic. Both of them have sacrificed so much of what initially made them lovable to promote the symbiosis of mutual dependence that they scarcely make up one human being between them.

Even if Democrats were to succeed in weakening or removing President Trump via hardball tactics, their victory would be Pyrrhic—for they would inherit a democracy stripped of its remaining protective guardrails.

We can toast the soldier without honoring the war.

Collectively, the veritable zoo of mobile genetic elements comprises a remarkable 40 percent of our genome. The retroviral sequences littered across all vertebrate genomes are termed endogenous retroviral elements (ERVs). Endogenous retroviral sequences themselves are so plentiful that they take up more space in our genomes than genes encoding human proteins. Their existence is evidence of waves of retroviral infection and germline infiltration throughout vertebrate evolution. We have only recently begun to realize the powerful influence that retroviruses wielded over the evolution of vertebrate genomes and the identity of our species. They were catalysts of genetic instability that fueled evolutionary change; today they are vestiges of their former selves, fossils of viruses that once preyed on vertebrate hosts. Their remains are evidence of pyrrhic victories of sorts in many wars and arms races that have taken place between retroviruses and hosts. Most endogenous retroviruses have long been silenced by host cell restriction mechanisms. Associated with no phenotype, and under no selective pressure they become nonviable after millions of years of mutational drift, resulting in the accumulation of mutations and deletions in their coding sequences and control elements.

The lesson of the experience is that, whatever the immediate problems, of this or that situation, if a standing army has to be formed which operates outside the control of the organs of working class rule, this is not just undesirable but also a real obstacle to the process of building socialism. The Red Army may have won the civil war, but its victory turned out to be a Pyrrhic one which sounded the death-knell of the kind of society most Bolsheviks, and the majority of the working class, had envisaged in 1917.

Faced with a real fight, most animals will compromise. If the odds look bad, one or another will back off, or the fight will be discontinued by mutual consent. Humans are the only animals prepared to fight for a Pyrrhic victory.

In the Russian Revolution, for example, we could expect to see mainly the reaction of the patriarchal feudal society to the challenges of modernization. However, the victory of the countryside and the peasant masses over the westernized city turned out to be a Pyrrhic one, since it threw the already backward country into the backwoods of civilization. Petlyura-style nationalism differs from European nationalism in that the latter aimed to strengthen the national state in the name of modernization and progress, while the Petlyura (and later Soviet) variety fulfilled directly opposite functions and had no constructive, civilizing content, being instead a particularly destructive phenomenon — the expression of a nation's frustration at having failed to come together. This failure, in Bulgakov's opinion, was also due to the fact that this nation did not exist (he saw nothing in it but comical rustic bandura players and petty bourgeois who suddenly "remembered" their Ukrainian-ness and began to speak in broken Ukrainian); or else because the nation was not ready for statehood (which offered nothing except bloody pogroms); or else because its aspirations to statehood were historically and politically unjustified. Ultimately, Kiev was for Bulgakov a Russian city. Historically, it was in fact the "mother of Russian cities," the cradle of Russian state-hood, and the capital of ancient Kievan Rus. Bulgakov's refusal to recognize the rights of the Ukrainian language and Ukrainian aspirations in Kiev was even demographically justified: in 1917, more than half the population of Kiev was Russian, followed by Jews (about twenty per-cent), and only then Ukrainians (a little more than sixteen percent), with a significant Polish minority (almost a tenth of the population). But who remembers today that even Prague, for instance, was at that time a German-speaking city? In the newly proclaimed Ukrainian state, many eastern and southern cities (among them such first-rate cultural and industrial centers as Odessa, Kherson, Nikolaev, Kharkov, Iuzovka, Ekaterinoslav, and Lugansk) had never been Ukrainian at all. One should also consider that western Ukraine (the primary base of present-day Ukrainian nationalism) was once part of Poland. All of this made the aspirations toward Ukrainian "independence" highly questionable. Ukraine began where the city ended, and Bulgakov considered the city the basis of culture and civilization. Ukraine in Bulgakov's world is "the steppe" — culturally barren, not creating anything, and capable only of barbarian destruction. The Ukrainian national elites understood this perfectly when, as early as the 1920s, they demanded that Stalin ban The Days of the Turbins because, ostensibly, "the Whites movement is praised" in it. But in fact it was because the attempt to create a Ukrainian "state" was depicted by Bulgakov as a bloody operetta.

Such “pyrrhic victories” are of course ubiquitous in the development of U.S. tax law, leading the late Justice Robert H. Jackson to quip that tax is “a field beset with invisible boomerangs.” Arrowsmith v. Commissioner, 344 U.S. 6, 12 (1954) (Jackson, dissenting). See Kirk J. Stark, The Unfulfilled Tax Legacy of Justice Robert H. Jackson, 54 Tax L. Rev. 171, 251-256 (2001). To carry the evolutionary story further, one might observe that the development of the tax law is sometimes characterized by a process similar to evolutionary phenomenon of “antagonistic pleiotropy,” a condition where a single gene influences more than one trait—one with beneficial effects and the other with harmful effects. In a similar way, a single legal rule will often have pro-taxpayer and pro-government effects, depending on the class of taxpayer. Thus, in the same way that a gene selected for some beneficial trait might carry with it some other harmful trait, government efforts through litigation to push the development of a legal rule (e.g., the scope of the “realization” doctrine) in one direction with respect to one class of taxpayers (e.g., taxpayers with gains) will sometimes have the opposite effect on another class of taxpayers (e.g., taxpayers with losses). A fuller “evolutionary” theory of the development of U.S. tax law might seek to account for such phenomena.

This basic problem of relevance-cum-subservience has been given an added twist in the modern world, where relevance has become not only hollow but fragile and short-lived. A wider range of choices, a deeper uncertainty of events, a more pressing need for new styles—all this makes for an accelerating turnover of issues, concerns and fads. Nothing tires like a trend or ages faster than a fashion. Today’s bold headline is tomorrow’s yellowing newsprint. Thus the relevance-hungry liberals achieve relevance, but their victory is Pyrrhic. It is precisely as they win that they lose. As they become relevant to one group or movement, they become irrelevant to another and find themselves rudely dismissed. Far from being in the avant-garde, Christian liberals trot smartly behind the times. Far from being genuinely new or radical, they catch up and announce their discoveries breathlessly, only to see the vanguard disappearing down the road on the trail of a different pursuit.

Pyrrhus invaded Italy at the start of the campaigning season in 280 BC. In two brutal and bloody battles he successfully defeated the Romans. The Greek king, though, having seen so many of his soldiers slaughtered in achieving this success, was said to have remarked, ‘With another victory like this, we will be finished!’ (Hence our modern phrase ‘pyrrhic victory’.)

It was June 17, 1775, during the siege of Boston. Colonial forces, having locked the British into the city, learned that the redcoats planned to occupy several surrounding hills as a prelude to breaking the siege. Ahead of the British, a revolutionary garrison had been assembled on the Charlestown Peninsula, a strategic area that overlooked both Boston and its harbor and offered a vantage point for artillery fire on the city. Throughout the previous night the militiamen had labored to build a defensive fortification. In the morning, General William Howe led the attacking troops, which were repulsed twice by the hill’s defenders, who inflicted devastating losses on the British regulars. On their third assault, however, the seasoned British soldiers successfully broke through the colonists’ breastwork and overran the small fort and the assembled colonial volunteers. But theirs was a Pyrrhic victory, the king’s forces suffering more than 1,000 casualties of their force of 2,200.

In 1940, under Churchill’s inspired, indomitable, incomparable leadership, the Empire had stood alone against the truly evil imperialism of Hitler. Even if it did not last for the thousand years that Churchill hopefully suggested it might, this was indeed the British Empire’s ‘finest hour’. Yet what made it so fine, so authentically noble, was that the Empire’s victory could only ever have been Pyrrhic. In the end, the British sacrificed her Empire to stop the Germans, Japanese and Italians from keeping theirs. Did not that sacrifice alone expunge all the Empire’s other sins?

Any victory won that way would be Pyrrhic.

if the English had succeeded in asserting their demographic dominance, the war was, at best, a Pyrrhic victory for the colonists. The crushing tax burden required to pay for the conflict stifled the region’s economy.

In the name of rejecting ecclesiastical authority as "hierarchy" or "tradition" as theological manipulation and bondage, we have instead created a hermeneutic of suspicion and have invested every biblically informed conscience (instead of a pope) to speak ex cathedra. It is a Pyrrhic victory for Free church Protestantism when the net effect of its teaching results in the replacing of the tyranny of the magisterium with the tyranny of individualism.

Our victories were pyrrhic because we failed to address the values, assumptions and beliefs that underlie our destructive demands and activities. The way we see the world shapes the way we treat it. If we regard a mountain as a deity rather than a pile of ore, a forest as a sacred grove rather than lumber and pulp, other species as our biological kin rather than resources, the planet as our mother and life-giver and not an opportunity, then our actions will reflect far greater humility, respect and responsibility.

he could not continue the struggle — the origin of the expression ‘a pyrrhic victory’.

Mortarion was still the greater of them. He was still the stronger, the more steeped in preternatural gifts, but now all that he felt was doubt, rocked by the remorseless fury of one who had never been anything more than flighty, self-regarding and unreliable. All Mortarion could see just then was one who wished to kill him - who would do anything, sacrifice anything, fight himself beyond physical limits, destroy his own body, his own heart, his own soul, just for the satisfaction of the oaths he had made in the void. 'If you know what I did,' Mortarion cried out, fighting on now through that cold fog of indecision, 'then you know the truth of it, brother - I can no longer die.' It was as if a signal had been given. The Khan's bloodied head lifted, the remnants of his long hair hanging in matted clumps. 'Oh, I know that,' he murmured, with the most perfect contempt he had ever mustered. 'But I can.' Then he leapt. His broken legs still propelled him, his fractured arms still bore his blade, his blood-filled lungs and perforated heart still gave him just enough power, and he swept in close. If he had been in the prime of condition, the move might have been hard to counter, but he was already little more than a corpse held together by force of will, and so Silence interposed itself, catching the Khan under his armour-stripped shoulder and impaling him deep. But that didn't stop him. The parry had been seen, planned for, and so he just kept coming, dragging himself up the length of the blade until the scythe jutted out of his ruptured back and the White Tiger was in tight against Mortarion's neck. For an instant, their two faces were right up against one another - both cadaverous now, drained of blood, drained of life, existing only as masks onto pure vengeance. All their majesty was stripped away, scraped out across the utilitarian rockcrete, leaving just the desire, the violence, the brute mechanics of despite. It only took a split second. Mortarion's eyes went wide, realising that he couldn't wrench his brother away in time. The Khan's narrowed. 'And that makes the difference,' Jaghatai spat. He snapped his dao across, severing Mortarion's neck cleanly in an explosion of black bile, before collapsing down into the warp explosion that turned the landing stage, briefly, into the brightest object on the planet after the Emperor's tormented soul itself.

The board might win such showdowns in its role as the public's champion. But Adams sensed that victories of this sort would be pyrrhic. They would so poison the atmosphere that further influence, beyond the narrow boundaries of the commission's legal authority,

hollow victory, sometimes referred to as an empty victory or Pyrrhic victory.

Pyrrhic victory,

but it was a Pyrrhic victory now it was here.

But the unpleasant truth was that, with this new ruthlessness in the air, the old life was gone forever and any victory now could not be anything other than Pyrrhic.

It was a Pyrrhic victory but a victory nonetheless.

Fast han förlorade, så segrade han dock ... Det var åter slaget vid Poltava ...” (Sid. 264)

Bunker Hill proved a Pyrrhic victory, for the British registered more than a thousand casualties. Americans had shown not only pluck and grit but excellent marksmanship as they picked off British officers; firing at officers was then considered a shocking breach of military etiquette. The Americans suffered 450 casualties, including the death of Major General Joseph Warren. Even while it dented British confidence, the Battle of Bunker Hill stirred patriotic spirits, exposing the first chinks in the British fighting machine and suggesting, wrongly, that green American militia troops could outfight British professionals.