Quotes About Protection

The blessings and protection of Heaven are at all times necessary, but especially so in times of public distress and danger," he assured his men, hoping "that every officer and man will endeavor so to live and act as becomes a Christian soldier defending the dearest rights and liberties of his country.

Summing up Grant's career, Frederick Douglass wrote: "In him the Negro found a protector, the Indian a friend, a vanquished foe a brother, an imperiled nation a savior.

Grant adopted unusual precautions, returning to the Willard Hotel twice daily for meals and staying indoors at night. When he set eyes on images of John Wilkes Booth, he immediately recognized the sinister horseman who had shadowed his path to the train station and knew that he himself had stood on the death list of intended victims.

Even as a teenager, he felt protective toward Fanny and sometimes sounded more like parent than child.

Frederick Douglass paired Grant with Lincoln as the two people who had done most to secure African American advances: "May we not justly say . . . that the liberty which Mr. Lincoln declared with his pen General Grant made effectual with his sword—by his skill in leading the Union armies to final victory?"21 For the admiring Douglass, Grant was "the vigilant, firm, impartial, and wise protector of my race.

Perhaps Rockefeller really did have God on his side, for his barrels survived the flooding intact.

I do not wish to have it known now or at any time.

For the rest of her life, Eliza rotated among the homes of her five children, who provided her with more security than she had ever known with her prodigal husband.

For this child of mine, home would be me. I would be home. I would be everything for this child until we went home together.

WHEN I WAS VERY YOUNG, Papa used to tell me that words fly on wild winds from the mouths of sly people. When the winds pick up, he said, sand blows into your ears and bites your eyes. Storms build overhead like a lake with a spout, but you can't see or hear. Only when you are safely sheltered, Papa said, can you tell which way the wind is blowing. Only from the calm, he said, can you see how to protect yourself from trouble.

Everything around us, including the delicate balance in nature that makes life on Earth possible, makes it clear: Our world didn't "just happen." Our world was designed, and even today Earth is guided and protected by God.

The security state that has grown up since 9/11 has transformed our culture; and yes, we have needed the protection. We are often reminded that we must "never forget" what happened on that fateful day. But if we fail to keep in mind the country we were before 9/11, we may never steer in that direction again. In that case, the terrorists really will have won.

A good coat is like a good lawyer. it covers your ass.

Never hit a woman unless she's trying to kill you.

People who wear glasses, without them they always look unfocused, vulnerable. Out in the open. A layer removed.

Never revive a guy who had just pulled a gun on you.

Shotguns and children don't mix.

I have a knife. And I have a rule. Pull a knife on me, I break your arm.

A soldier knows that a satisfactory observation point provides an unobstructed view to the front and adequate security to the flanks and the rear. He knows it provides protection from the elements and concealment of the observers. He knows it offers a reasonable likelihood of undisturbed occupation for the full duration of the operation.

The best defense against knives was distance. The best countermove was entanglement.

Reacher said, "I wish I could send you ahead. Instead of me. You're a grown-up. I don't care what happens to you. Come if you want. Stay with us all the way. But stay with us on my left-hand side." "Why that?" "I'm right-handed. I like freedom of movement." "Understood. Let's go.

Inside was a ten-digit keypad. A combination lock. One through nine, plus zero, laid out like a telephone. A possible 3,628,800 variants. It

Reacher squinted through the glare. They were all looking at him. The sandy guy, Poulton. The woman, Lamarr. The hypertensive, Blake. All three of them from Serial Crimes down in Quantico. Up here to talk to him. Then Deerfield, the New York Bureau chief, a heavyweight. Then the lean guy, Cozo, from Organized Crime, working on the protection rackets. He glanced slowly left to right, and right to left, and finished up back on Deerfield. Then he nodded.

Each of which was no doubt occupied by a made man with a gun in his pocket and a spare in a drawer.