Quotes About Power

Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,To cry, "Hold, hold!"

See, what a grace was seated on this brow;Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself,An eye like Mars, to threaten and command,A station like the herald MercuryNew-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill,A combination and a form indeed,Where every god did seem to set his seal,To give the world assurance of a man.

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,To stir men's blood: I only speak right on.

Murderer: We are men, my liege.Macbeth: Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men.

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth bringsThat then I scorn to change my state with kings.

'Ban, 'Ban, Ca—Caliban,Has a new master—Get a new man.

Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scornThe power of man, for none of woman bornShall harm Macbeth.

The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.

Would it not grieve a woman to be over-mastered with a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl?

William Shakespeare

How long a time lies in one little word!

We have kiss'd awayKingdoms and provinces.

Nay, then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a suit of sables.

Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back.

The king's name is a tower of strength.

If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,Without my stir.

Then everything includes itself in power,Power into will, will into appetite;And appetite, a universal wolf,So doubly seconded with will and power,Must make perforce a universal prey,And last eat up himself.

What infinite heart's easeMust kings neglect that private men enjoy!And what have kings that privates have not too,Save ceremony, save general ceremony?And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st moreOf mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in?O ceremony! show me but thy worth.

The old fantastical duke of dark corners.

Comes at the last, and with a little pinBores through his castle wall, and farewell king!

This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein.

Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide archOf the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space.Kingdoms are clay.

And to be kingStands not within the prospect of belief.

Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd?Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd?