Quotes About Power

You aint gotta vote for us cuz we aint neva runnin.

Im on top of my green like a lawn chair.

Nigga we in charge, baby put me in charge, and Im just murdering niggas free of charge.

Im the bomb like tickk. tick.

Sometimes I wanna drop a tear but no emotion from a king.

Too much money aint enough money, you know the feds listenin. Nigga what money.

Hopped up in my car and told my chauffeur to the top.

She wants to own me and I aint trying to fight it.

Ran into a super woman, turned her to a super bitch, hit her with that super d-ck, she be cumming super quick.

Pump to your chest, I aint talking CPR.

Touch me again, and it will be your last act in life - Blue Eyes.

His eyes were green chips of flame, and the growl was so thick it blurred the air around him, the sound of a very pissed off skinchanger.

The end of a gun looks very big and very back when it's staring you in the face.

He laughed. The laugh could strip the skin off an elephant in seconds.

Sometimes you can pick who buys you, and for how much. That's what power really is.

Unwinter did not wind his Horn or glance back. He did not lift an armored hand to summon his knights. He did not command them to follow. And yet. The whisper became a rustle, the rustle deepened to a throbbing, the throbbing swelled into a roar. The highborn fullbloods of Unwinter, pale and wasted, sallied forth clasped in their own black armor, riding by two and three on the nightmare mounts enticed from the Dreaming Sea's foaming edge.

Ma ora non c'è più bisogno nemmeno dei paparazzi, sono gli stessi rappresentanti dello Stato a mostrarsi orgogliosamente alla nazione in modalità selfie. Siamo come voi, è il messaggio. Ma chi vi ha detto che dovete essere come noi?

Sono d'accordo, la diplomazia è preziosa e costruire alleanze tra i sessi è fondamentale. Ma la guerra c'è e quando i nodi degli interessi personali vengono al pettine, nessun uomo sa essere femminista quanto una donna.

I hate male cowardice and the way they always have each other's backs. They have no control. They justify everything their dicks make them do. And they get away with it. Nearly every time.

I has a last look at the sea, which was rumpled and agitated, a thick muscle that would hold on tight to everything it swallowed.

I had never seen more clearly how streets like these were made for and by amoral cowards, men who made money in rubber or sugar or copper or steel in remote places then returned here where no one questioned their practices, their treatment of others, their greed.

He said surely it is more civilized to kill one man every few months, hold up his head for all to behold, say his name, and return home for a feast than to slaughter nameless millions.

Don't you understand? There has to be a balance. A man can't be without power—it doesn't work like that. What was I going to do, write little books behind hers like a fucking echo? I needed something big. And this is big. Books on this thing will write themselves.

Did he know? Of course he didn't. But for so long now when someone asked how she was they loaded it with pity and braced themselves for her reply, as if she had the power to hurt them with the truth.