Quotes About Power

Designating "(Fill in the blank) First" as the golden rule of international relations provides an all-purpose justification for tyrants to do as they like.

IF WE THINK OF FASCISM as a wound from the past that had almost healed, putting Trump in the White House was like ripping off the bandage and picking at the scab.

To my mind, a Fascist is someone who identifies strongly with and claims to speak for a whole nation or group, is unconcerned with the rights of others, and is willing to use whatever means are necessary—including violence—to achieve his or her goals. In that conception, a Fascist will likely be a tyrant, but a tyrant need not be a Fascist.

At Tara in this fateful hour, I place all Heaven with its power, And the sun with its brightness, And the snow with its whiteness, And the fire with all the strength it hath, And the lightning with its rapid wrath, And the winds with their swiftness along their path, And the sea with its deepness, And the rocks with their steepness, And the earth with its starkness: All these I place, By God's almighty help and grace Between myself and the powers of darkness!

If they want to come for you, they will come, and it doesn't matter what you read or what you failed to read. The books on your shelves, the music you cherish, the past lives you've lived, all these details are just an excuse.

Drawing even with her, the Prince strode along at her side, still scowling ferociously. "It is not for me to tell you what to do. The wizards of Leal are the High King's allies, not his subjects. But if you were my sister or my cousin—" "If I were your sister or your cousin," she retorted, "you still wouldn't have the power or the right to change my mind!

It seems to me if an anointed king can be set aside, a serf-born woman can marry a baron's son. As rebellions against God's lawful order go, ours will be a small one. ---Addis de Valence

We were like gods at the dawning of the world, & our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other.

There are no bargains between lion and men. I will kill you and eat you raw.

He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.

I feel like I could eat the world raw.

Then I learned that I could bend the world to my will, as a bow is bent for an arrow. I would have done that toil a thousand times to keep such power in my hands.

They do not care if you are good. They barely care if you are wicked. The only thing that makes them listen is power.

Let me say what sorcery is not: it is not divine power, which comes with a thought and a blink. It must be made and worked, planned and searched out, dug up, dried, chopped and ground, cooked, spoken over, and sung. Even after all that, it can fail, as gods do not.

I have walked in the blackest deeps. You cannot guess what spells I have cast, what poisons I have gathered to protect myself against you, how your power may rebound upon your head. Who knows what is in me? Will you find out?

It is funny," she said, "that even after all this time, you still believe you should be rewarded, just because you have been obedient. I thought you would have learned that lesson in our father's halls. None shrank and simpered as you did, and yet great Helios stepped on you all the faster, because you were already crouched at his feet.

Our men liked conquest; they did not trust a man who was conquered himself.

Later, years later, I would hear a song made of our meeting. [...] I was not surprised by the portrait of myself: the proud witch undone before the hero's sword, kneeling and begging for mercy. Humbling women seems to me a chief pastime of poets. As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep.

Little by little I began to listen better: to the sap moving in the plants, to the blood in my veins. I learned to understand my own intention, to prune and to add, to feel where the power gathered and speak the right words to draw it to its height. That was the moment I lived for, when it all came clear at last and the spell could sing with its pure note, for me and me alone.

The word I use is hubris. Our word for arrogance that scrapes the stars, for violence and towering rage as ugly as the gods.

Wealth and reputation were the things our people had always killed for.

The words slid into me, smooth as a polished knife.

I could not make him a god," she says. Her jagged voice, rich with grief. /But you made him./

I had felt untouchable, filled with teeth and power.