Sunday, December 22, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Heinz Guderian

« All quotes from this author
 

Man schlägt jemanden mit der Faust und nicht mit gespreizten Fingern. (You hit somebody with your fist and not with your fingers spread.)
--
Meaning that you should concentrate your Panzers for one mighty push in one direction and not distribute them over a large area. Quoted in "Die Deutschen gepanzerten Truppen bis 1945" - Page 209 - by Oskar Munzel - Tanks (Military science) - 1965

 
Heinz Guderian

» Heinz Guderian - all quotes »



Tags: Heinz Guderian Quotes, Authors starting by G


Similar quotes

 

My passions were all gathered together like fingers that made a fist. Drive is considered aggression today; I knew it then as purpose.

 
Bette Davis
 

Capitalism is hard to reason with, but it vividly understands the fist of the working-class, and the Bolsheviks’ unforgettable honorary deed — no matter how the future may turn out, is that they for the first time in world history have shown the tormenters of humanity, an example of power that truly acts, not just talks. The fist in the face, that is the only argument capitalism understands, and Bolshevism has used the fist, hard, very hard but certainly justified.

 
Ture Nerman
 

Very few people are aware that in each of our fingers, located somewhere between the firs phalange, the mesophalange and the metaphalange, there is a tiny brain. [...] It should be noted that fingers are without brains, these develop gradually with the passage of time and with the help of what the eyes see…. That is why the fingers have always excelled at uncovering what is concealed.

 
Jose Saramago
 

“If a fist can hold a sword, and a fist can clench a pen, but the points of both are missed, by dull, tarnished pride of men. We must open up our hands, raise our palms up high to see, the mazes of our unique selves, end with similarity.”

 
Dawud Wharnsby
 

I saw the fare welling hands,
They were sickly,
When my hand
Touched her cold and long fingers
Which was from the family of the wailing reed
It gripped an eternal grief in its fist
The pen broke
And pain
Like black drops of ink
dropped on our papery hearts.
I saw the fare welling hands,
They were sickly;

 
Farrokh Tamimi
© 2009–2013Quotes Privacy Policy | Contact