Best 367 quotes in «rebellion quotes» category

As one of the few Marlowes to have met him before the Rebellion, during a time he was still a spare prince, Sigrid said he was arrogant of his status and prone to tantrums. A personification of the Blood of Diagon – handsome on the outside and ugly on the inside.

As one Questioner pointed out, 'The Rebels' best asset is their voice of dissent. We shouldn't try to school it out of them, or to corporate-culture it out, or shame it out. It's there to protect us all.

As someone who never followed rules, as someone who did everything she could to avoid them, I was done living by Marin’s law. I needed Brent now. I would have him back. And soon.

At a trade show, someone said, "You'll get in trouble for that." I replied,"Are they going to call the trade show police?

A temporary coalition of anger against the old regime was no basis for a stable government.

A traitor only becomes one if their plot is discovered. The imposition of guilt means nothing to those who feign loyalty. More skilled conspirators wield treason as a clinical tool of regime change and political expediency. Then, with their own hand writing history, such traitors may wear the clothes of patriots.

At that moment, Robert saw James Stewart turn to him. A jolt went through him as the steward nodded. Before anyone could begin speaking again, he headed out of the crowd towards Wallace, leaving his men looking on in surprise. ‘We have chosen to elect this man as our guardian.’ Robert’s voice was harsh as he gestured to Wallace. ‘But he is still just the son of a knight.’ ‘You dare to challenge his election?’ demanded Adam. Other shouts of scorn and ire joined his. ‘On the contrary,’ answered Robert, ‘I am suggesting that a man of William Wallace’s achievements, a man who is to be sole guardian of Scotland, bears a title befitting his prowess.’ He faced the crowd. ‘I, Sir Robert Bruce, Earl of Carrick, offer William Wallace the honour of a knighthood.’ He turned to Wallace. ‘If he will bend before me.

At the negotiations in Irvine, it became clear to me that there was no side I could stand on. The English despise me and my countrymen don’t trust me. Wallace and the others are rebelling in the name of Balliol. I cannot fight with them. It would be as much a betrayal of my oath as when I was fighting for England. I know what I must do. What I should have done months ago.’ Robert felt embarrassed, about to say the words. Inside, his father’s voice berated him, but he silenced it. ‘I want you to weave my destiny,’ he finished. ‘As you did for my grandfather.’ When she spoke, her voice was low. ‘And what is your destiny?’ He met her eyes now, all hesitation and embarrassment gone. ‘To be King of Scotland.’ A smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. It wasn’t a soft smile. It was hard and dangerous. ‘I will need something of yours,’ she said, rising.

At times I have discovered a new lowness of spirit, a new need to revolt, to kick against the constraints that a civilized life tries to impose.” He stopped and regarded her. “Because what is civilized life but an imposition of unreal standards upon flawed and defective human beings by other human beings no less flawed and defective?

[A writer] cannot serve today those who make history; he must serve those who are subject to it.

Behind every rebellion lies a tyranny.

But you and I know that this war will not have any real victors and that, once it is over, we shall still have to go on living together forever on the same soil. We know that our destinites are so closely linked that any action on the part of one calls forth a retort from the other, crime engendering crime, madness replying to lunacy, and finally, that if one stands aloof the other suffers from sterility.

Better to sleep all day on a park bench than do work you don't believe in.

But it was women like Rudabeh who planted in my mind the idea of a different kind of woman whose courage is private and personal. Without making any grand claims, without aiming to save humanity or defeat the forces of Satan, these women were engaged in a quiet rebellion, courageous not because it would get them accolades, but because they could not be otherwise. If they were limited and vulnerable, it was an audacious vulnerability, transcending the misogyny of their creator and his times.

...but maybe it's just the genetic code of a teenager. If your parents forbid something, you have to want it.

Be militant in your own way! Those of you who can break windows, break them. Those of you who can still further attack the secret idol of property...do so. And my last word is to the Government: I incite this meeting to rebellion. Take me if you dare! (Emmeline Pankhurst, 1912)

Cleaving to the authority...will not protect your family...Those who lie down meekly in a civil war are always the first to be trampled.

Christ was a man worthy to rebel against, for he was rebellion itself.

Clinton had displayed his lifelong tendency to make enemies of all his superiors, who never seemed to appreciate his advice as much as he thought it deserved.

Come to think of it, the Senate sessions had been quieting for a while. The boisterous beginnings she remembered as a tiny child had become more subdued later on, the stillness falling so gradually that Leia had missed it until now. Had the senators forgotten that they still held some authority? That they were one of the few forces standing between Palpatine and absolute power? They couldn't afford to become passive in the face of resistance; that was when they needed to bear down and work harder...

Cherish your existence, for memories become legacies and life can change in an instant.

Coming-of-age tales and villain origins have a lot in common. Teens are fighting for their independence and against familial pressures. Villains are frequently fighting against societal and moral expectations in their origins.

Controversy is a last resort for the talentless.

Cowards parade around me calling me weird, calling me paranoid then, calling me for help.

Crafting a novel on cotton rag paper with an antique fountain pen is a sensuously rebellious act against modernity.

Dacă tai în două un om prost, n-o să găsești sânge, ca la noi. O să găsești păreri. Are păreri despre orice, în special despre lucrurile de care n-are habar. Cu cât nu înțelege ceva, cu atât părerea lui va fi mai înverșunată. Și cu părerile astea trebuie să facă ceva, trebuie să le arate lumii. A căzut un camion într-o prăpastie? Păi, hai, ce faci, ce mai pierzi vremea? Spune cu cine ții: cu camionul sau cu prăpastia?

Dad, she's just going to freak. And probably come here and get me, and then you guys will start yelling at each other, and I'll have to act out by wearing lots of eyeliner and doing the drugs

Death is going to take the boundaries away from us, that we should no more be persons. That's what death is about. When that is what life also wants to be about, how can you feel except rebellious?

Death despises bartering. Yet this king of Death was the greatest barterer of us all. He bartered with our lives, dreams, hopes, and prayers—he used them to control us. And he would continue to so long as we allowed him. But today, if only for me, he would stop. He wouldn’t win.

Desire cannot be tamed. That’s what the King told me the first time I was here. Well, King. You should see how untamable love makes you.

Disrobe both conformity and rebellion to find true independence.

Disorder, disobedience & rule breaking are features of all my stories.

Do not be a follower. Be a leader. Rebel-Rebel-Rebel.

Each thing that obeys law [has] the glory and isolation of the anarchist.

Do you know the reason why fellas liked hanging around me? It is because I made them feel appreciated and respected. If you were a scary fella but you are good at stealing cars, then be good at that. This is where your respect is coming from. Scrooge, former leader of the Rebellion Raiders street gang that once boasted of having some ten thousand members.

Every decision you make in life will stem from one of two options: love or fear. Choose love.

Enrollments in American colleges tripled between 1955 and 1970, 250% in the Soviet Union, 400% in France, and more than 200% in China by 1965. Gaddis writes, "What governments failed to foresee was that more young people, plus, more education, when combined with a stalemated Cold War, could be a prescription for insurrection. Learning does not easily compartmentalize. How do you prepare students to think for purposes approved by the state, or by their parents, without also equipping them to think for themselves? Youths throughout history had often wished question their elders values. Now, with university educations, their elders had handed them the training to do so. The result was discontent with the world as it was.

Eleanor had heard talk of the rebellion that existed inside the city of Constance before. Most of the information she gathered was considered an old fairy tale by the general public. There were a few stories here and there about people angered by their present living conditions, who had demanded that the center of Constance be held responsible for it. However, information was never passed between the five different sectors. Over the years the tales of the rebellion had become children’s bedtime stories, and people did not take them seriously.

Entrepreneurs see the "no diving" sign and back-up to get a running start.

Everything about rebellion and freedom interests me.

Freedom, "that terrible word inscribed on the chariot of the storm," is the motivating principle of all revolutions. Without it, justice seems inconceivable to the rebel's mind. There comes a time, however, when justice demands the suspension of freedom. Then terror, on a grand or small scale, makes its appearance to consummate the revolution. Every act of rebellion expresses a nostalgia for innocence and an appeal to the essence of being. But one day nostalgia takes up arms and assumes the responsibility of total guilt; in other words, adopts murder and violence.

Fan would have expected that one or two of the Girls would have long rebelled at spending a life in a room, would have begged, say, the dentist, to help them steal away, but the funny thing about this existence is that once firmly settled we occupy it with less guard than we know. We watch ourselves routinely brushing our teeth, or coloring the wall, or blowing off the burn from a steaming yarn of soup noodles, and for every moment there is a companion moment that elides onto it, a secret span that deepens the original’s stamp. We feel ever obliged by everyday charges and tasks. They conscript us more and more. We find world enough in a frame. Until at last we take our places at the wheel, or wall, or line, having somewhere forgotten that we can look up.

Freedom looks beautiful and inspiring to those who desire & seek it; but Freedom looks like rebellion to those who have become complacent in hiding.

For Christian writers, religious faith is not a rebellion against reason, but a revolt against the imprisonment of humanity within the cold walls of a rationalist dogmatism.

Frustration is the breeding ground for rebellion.

From the woods that surrounded the burgh came a mass of men. Some rode, others ran. All carried weapons, mainly axes or spears. A few wore mail shirts and cloaks, but most just leather aketons. Among them were a handful of men clad in the short tunics favoured by Highlanders. These men were bare from thigh to foot, an alarming sight to Ormesby, who had only heard rumour of these wild men of the north. As they came, they roared a multitude of battle cries. Ormesby caught one name in the din, issuing from a group of mailed riders who followed a burly man on a finely caparisoned horse. ‘For Douglas!’ they howled. ‘For Douglas!’ Below, the townsfolk were scattering. The English soldiers had formed a tight knot outside the hall, blades drawn, but even as Ormesby watched, the forlorn group of beggars he had seen threw off their ragged skins and furs, revealing thickly muscled warriors. They fell upon the soldiers with savage cries, daggers thrusting. Footsteps sounded on the hall stairs. The door burst open and two soldiers appeared. ‘We must go, sir!’ The clerks and officials were already hastening across the chamber. Donald was running with them. Ormesby remained rooted. ‘Who are they?’ he demanded, his voice high as he turned back to the window, seeing the horde rushing into the town. His eyes fixed on a giant of a man running, almost loping in the front lines. Taller than all those around him, agile in the stride, he wore a simple dark blue tunic and wide-brimmed kettle hat. The other men seemed to be running in unruly formation around him. But it was the blade in the man’s hands that Ormesby’s eyes were drawn to. He had never seen such a sword, so broad and long the giant had to grasp it in both hands as he came. Another name now became audible in the roar of the mob. ‘Wallace! Wallace!

God pursues us. He pursues us in our brokenness. He pursues us in our mishaps. Despite our rebellion or resistance, He pursues us to the very end.

God's government is perfect and just. His moral law is "holy, righteous and good" (Romans 7:12). No one ever has a valid reason to rebel against the government of God. We rebel for only one reason: We were born rebellious. We were born with a perverse inclination to go our own way, to set up our own internal government rather than submit to God.

God's anger is the toil and suffering of man. Man's anger is the love and worship of his enemy.

God’s mercy and patience with us are beyond our ability to comprehend. He pursues us until we respond to Him. But sometimes rebellion or a hard heart makes us unreachable. I believe we can turn so far away from God in our stubbornness that we place ourselves out of His reach.