Best 263 quotes in «king quotes» category

Principles in a poor is admirable as politeness in a prince.

Psalm 91 My Refuge and My Fortress 91:1 He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. 2 I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.

Psalm 37:4 4 Delight thyself also in the LORD: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.

Real kings and queens are people whose heads are crowned with dreams as they sit on the throne of passion. They rule with visions in the regalia of inspirations!

Remember, remember the Fifth of November, The Gunpowder Treason and Plot, I know of no reason Why the gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot. Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t’was his intent To blow up the King and Parli’ment. Three-score barrels of powder below To prove old England’s overthrow; By God’s providence he was catch’d With a dark lantern and burning match. Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring. Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!

She’d found him. She’d helped him. She’d saved him. He was hers. And they’d taken him away, ripped him from her arms, literally.

Protestors? At a funeral?

She wants her freedom.

. She was beautiful, and her temperament seemed much better than his first wife did. Arman stopped in the middle of the Windsor knot on his tie. Who was he trying to kid, he thought. An enraged rabid pit bull in heat would have had a better temperament then his first wife.

Simply blessed.

Should five slaves dictate to a king? If five baboons bark, must the black-maned lion tremble?

Somebody's been feeding the boy fables. Probably the king's niece. Humph. Nice girl. Too many romantic notions, though.

Some people fight with each other for worldly thrones; mostly for the purpose of making others bow down to them. But I fight tirelessly to inspire my fellow humans to become Kings and Queens in their own worlds.

Some guys live in worlds where pawns stay pawns. I'm one move from king.

Sometimes to be at home is like a nightmare by Stephen King.

Sometimes, Men too, deserve to be spoiled, Told they are handsome, Told their efforts are appreciated and should also be made secure, If he treats you like a Queen, Treat him like a King

Some women have kissed—and some are kissing—a lot of frogs, even though the very first man that they have each kissed was and is still a prince.

Sometimes you have to sacrifice your queen to capture the king.

Stephen King is a powerful guy, will powerful vocabulary.

Spleen Je suis comme le roi d'un pays pluvieux, Riche, mais impuissant, jeune et pourtant très vieux, Qui, de ses précepteurs méprisant les courbettes, S'ennuie avec ses chiens comme avec d'autres bêtes. Rien ne peut l'égayer, ni gibier, ni faucon, Ni son peuple mourant en face du balcon. Du bouffon favori la grotesque ballade Ne distrait plus le front de ce cruel malade; Son lit fleurdelisé se transforme en tombeau, Et les dames d'atour, pour qui tout prince est beau, Ne savent plus trouver d'impudique toilette Pour tirer un souris de ce jeune squelette. Le savant qui lui fait de l'or n'a jamais pu De son être extirper l'élément corrompu, Et dans ces bains de sang qui des Romains nous viennent, Et dont sur leurs vieux jours les puissants se souviennent, II n'a su réchauffer ce cadavre hébété Où coule au lieu de sang l'eau verte du Léthé // I'm like the king of a rain-country, rich but sterile, young but with an old wolf's itch, one who escapes his tutor's monologues, and kills the day in boredom with his dogs; nothing cheers him, darts, tennis, falconry, his people dying by the balcony; the bawdry of the pet hermaphrodite no longer gets him through a single night; his bed of fleur-de-lys becomes a tomb; even the ladies of the court, for whom all kings are beautiful, cannot put on shameful enough dresses for this skeleton; the scholar who makes his gold cannot invent washes to cleanse the poisoned element; even in baths of blood, Rome's legacy, our tyrants' solace in senility, he cannot warm up his shot corpse, whose food is syrup-green Lethean ooze, not blood. — Robert Lowell, from Marthiel & Jackson Matthews, eds., The Flowers of Evil (NY: New Directions, 1963)

Stephen King is a great and incredible character.

Silver hidden in the gold, Young man hidden in the old, Laughing lord with weeping eyes, Bring king and ring before sunrise! -Hilarion, The Great and Terrible Quest

Stephen King have a lot of books about the writing not only "The Writting: Memoir and Craft", but and "Nightmares and Dreamscapes", however "Misery", also and "Bag of Bones" and even and others. Which is awesome, different perspectives for being a an writer.

Take me to your darkest corners and watch your demons surrender to mine..

The advantages of a hereditary Monarchy are self-evident. Without some such method of prescriptive, immediate and automatic succession, an interregnum intervenes, rival claimants arise, continuity is interrupted and the magic lost. Even when Parliament had secured control of taxation and therefore of government; even when the menace of dynastic conflicts had receded in to the coloured past; even when kingship had ceased to be transcendental and had become one of many alternative institutional forms; the principle of hereditary Monarchy continued to furnish the State with certain specific and inimitable advantages. Apart from the imponderable, but deeply important, sentiments and affections which congregate around an ancient and legitimate Royal Family, a hereditary Monarch acquires sovereignty by processes which are wholly different from those by which a dictator seizes, or a President is granted, the headship of the State. The King personifies both the past history and the present identity of the Nation as a whole. Consecrated as he is to the service of his peoples, he possesses a religious sanction and is regarded as someone set apart from ordinary mortals. In an epoch of change, he remains the symbol of continuity; in a phase of disintegration, the element of cohesion; in times of mutability, the emblem of permanence. Governments come and go, politicians rise and fall: the Crown is always there. A legitimate Monarch moreover has no need to justify his existence, since he is there by natural right. He is not impelled as usurpers and dictators are impelled, either to mesmerise his people by a succession of dramatic triumphs, or to secure their acquiescence by internal terrorism or by the invention of external dangers. The appeal of hereditary Monarchy is to stability rather than to change, to continuity rather than to experiment, to custom rather than to novelty, to safety rather than to adventure. The Monarch, above all, is neutral. Whatever may be his personal prejudices or affections, he is bound to remain detached from all political parties and to preserve in his own person the equilibrium of the realm. An elected President – whether, as under some constitutions, he be no more than a representative functionary, or whether, as under other constitutions, he be the chief executive – can never inspire the same sense of absolute neutrality. However impartial he may strive to become, he must always remain the prisoner of his own partisan past; he is accompanied by friends and supporters whom he may seek to reward, or faced by former antagonists who will regard him with distrust. He cannot, to an equal extent, serve as the fly-wheel of the State.

The chemists are a strange class of mortals, impelled by an almost insane impulse to seek their pleasures amid smoke and vapour, soot and flame, poisons and poverty; yet among all these evils I seem to live so sweetly that may I die if I were to change places with the Persian king.

The Child Christ lives on from generation to generation in the poets, very often the frailest of men but men whose frailty is redeemed by a child's unworldliness, by a child's delight in loveliness, by the spirit of wonder. Christ was a poet, and all through His life the Child remains perfect in Him. It was the poet, the unworldly poet, who was King of the invisible kingdom; the priests and rulers could not understand that. The poets understand it, and they, too, are kings of the invisible kingdom, vassal kings of the Lord of Love, and their crowns are crowns of thorns indeed.

the King gave orders that the page's salary was to be doubled. As he received no salary at all this was not of much use to him, but it was considered a great honor, and was duly published in the Court Gazette.

The Great King, Jesus Christ.

The happiest king has the happiest queen.

The happiest king is the one who has the happiest queen.

The higher position one has, the more they should embrace the divine rules; for the true king is not almighty, but handicapped by his responsibilities and duties. The true ruler's first thoughts are his people and the laws of the elders, for if he carelessly breaks them and harms his people, he is no more a true king, but a worthless man with a glittering crown which has lost its primal purpose and thus its inner brilliance.

The king should be the servant of his people, and seek to uplift them and their lives.

The king who has the broad bean does not have one whole wafer. (Le roi qui a la fève - N'a la galette entière.)

The least we each ought to do for someone who treats us like a king or a queen is to treat them like a prince or a princess.

The King in the Palace had the power to play with people’s lives and destroy them, but he did not even know what was happening in the ranks of his own soldiers, in the halls of his own home.

The King is naked! If only he was a Prince!

The light was everywhere. He would tell me later I looked like an angel... but he just looked like the same devil to me

‎The only way Jesus can be our King is if we allow Him to be our Servant

Then Ardent, heavy hearted, turned away; sore for the rusted armor and the wasted days: but as Sir Constant saw his shield, and lo! the lost Emblem of the King was shining once more through its veil of dishonor. For the heart's tears of sorrow had fallen upon the shield, and where they had fallen they had burned away the shame and stain.

There is also the significance of the crown of thorns for the church, God's redeemed people. It reminds us that Christ is a King and that he is victorious even when he seems defeated. However abased Christ may appear to me he is still a King. He accomplishes a regal task at Calvary and gains for us a royal pardon. He ascends a throne as he goes to be crucified, a throne of grace. In this apparent weakness he is the mighty Conqueror of Satan and sin and death, the Overcomer of this world. The cross appears as foolishness to the world, but to God's redeemed people that cross is victory, salvation, the power of God.

The single and peculiar mind is bound With all the strength and armor of the mind To keep itself from noyance, but much more That spirit upon whose weal depends and rests The lives of many. The cess of majesty Dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw What's near it with it; or it is a massy wheel Fixed on the summit of the highest mount, To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things Are mortised and adjoined, which, when it falls, Each small annexment, petty consequence, Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.

The trap had a ghastly perfection

The woman who preaches has poison religion. Let the respectable ones go

The young man is currently standing in the hallway, dripping on the handmade silk rug that the Emperor of the Indies presented to His Majesty's grandmother. He is insisting on speaking with His Majesty." "It's a very ugly rug," Mendanbar said. "That's why we put it in the entry hall.

Today, each of you will make a decision,” Caine said. “To go with Sam, or to stay here. I won’t try to stop anyone, and I won’t hold it against anyone.” He placed his hand over his heart. “For those who choose to stay, let me be very clear: I will be in charge. Not as a mayor, but as a king. My word will be law. My decisions will be final.” That caused some murmuring, most of it unhappy. “But I’ll also do everything I can to leave each of you alone. Quinn, if he chooses to stay, can still fish. Albert, if he chooses to stay, will still run his business. Freaks and normals will be treated equally.” He seemed about to add something else but caught himself after a sidelong look at Toto. The silence lengthened and Sam knew it was time for him to speak. In the past he’d always had Astrid at his side for things like this. He was not much of a speaker. And in any case, he didn’t have much to say. “Anyone who goes with me has a vote in how we do stuff. I guess I’ll be more or less in charge, but we’ll probably choose some other people, create a council like . . . Well, hopefully better than we had before. And, um . . .” He was tempted to laugh at his own pitiful performance. “Look, people, if you want someone, some . . . king, good grief, to tell you what to do, stay here. If you want to make more of your own decisions, well, come with me.” He hadn’t said enough to even cause Toto to comment. “You know which side I’m on, people,” Brianna yelled. “Sam’s been carrying the load since day one.” “It was Caine that saved us,” a voice cried out. “Where was Sam?” The crowd seemed undecided. Caine was beaming confidence, but Sam noticed that his jaw clenched, his smile was forced, and he was worried.

To live like a king, work like one.

What’s Albert going to do?” a boy named Jim demanded. “Where’s Albert?” Albert stepped from an inconspicuous position off to one side. He mounted the steps, moving carefully still, not entirely well even now. He carefully chose a position equidistant between Caine and Sam. “What should we do, Albert?” a voice asked plaintively. Albert didn’t look out at the crowd except for a quick glance up, like he was just making sure he was pointed in the right direction. He spoke in a quiet, reasonable monotone. Kids edged closer to hear. “I’m a businessman.” “True.” Toto. “My job is organizing kids to work, taking the things they harvest or catch, and redistributing them through a market.” “And getting the best stuff for yourself,” someone yelled to general laughter. “Yes,” Albert acknowledged. “I reward myself for the work I do.” This blunt admission left the crowd nonplussed. “Caine has promised that if I stay here he won’t interfere. But I don’t trust Caine.” “No, he doesn’t,” Toto agreed. “I do trust Sam. But . . .” And now you could hear a pin drop. “But . . . Sam is a weak leader.” He kept his eyes down. “Sam is the best fighter ever. He’s defended us many times. And he’s the best at figuring out how to survive. But Sam”— Albert now turned to him—“You are too humble. Too willing to step aside. When Astrid and the council sidelined you, you put up with it. I was part of that myself. But you let us push you aside and the council turned out to be useless.” Sam stood stock-still, stone-faced. “Let’s face it, you’re not really the reason things are better here, I am,” Albert said. “You’re way, way braver than me, Sam. And if it’s a battle, you rule. But you can’t organize or plan ahead and you won’t just put your foot down and make things happen.” Sam nodded slightly. It was hard to hear. But far harder was seeing the way the crowd was nodding, agreeing. It was the truth. The fact was he’d let the council run things, stepped aside, and then sat around feeling sorry for himself. He’d jumped at the chance to go off on an adventure and he hadn’t been here to save the town when they needed it. “So,” Albert concluded, “I’m keeping my things here, in Perdido Beach. But there will be free trading of stuff between Perdido Beach and the lake. And Lana has to be allowed to move freely.” Caine bristled at that. He didn’t like Albert laying down conditions. Albert wasn’t intimidated. “I feed these kids,” he said to Caine. “I do it my way.” Caine hesitated, then made a tight little bow of the head. “I want you to say it,” Albert said with a nod toward Toto. Sam saw panic in Caine’s eyes. If he lied now the jig would be up for him. Toto would call him out, Albert would support Sam, and the kids would follow Albert’s lead. Sam wondered if Caine was just starting to realize what Sam had known for some time: if anyone was king, it was neither Sam nor Caine, it was Albert.

When the winter comes, fire becomes a king!

When you write a story you're telling yourself the story. When you rewrite your main job is taking out all the things that are NOT the story.