Quotes About Emperor

During the nearly two years of separation from her husband and the society of the Viennese court, the Empress had changed. She had become very self-confident and brisk and had learned to assert her interests vigorously. The Emperor living in constant fear that at the first sign of discord she might run off again and do further damage to the prestige of the August House, treated her circumspectly, showing infinite patience.

After a ball given by the Margrave Pallavicini, she did not return to the Hofburg until six thirty in the morning, by which time the Emperor had already set out for the hunt, so that she no longer found him at home. Political cares did not deter the Emperor, either, from going hunting as often as possible.

It's hard to imagine that Clarence was once a normal person, a college student, football player and bespectacled counselor at the Jamesburg State Home for Boys. He had a face that would look at home at any point in history. It was the face of an exotic emperor, an island king, a heavyweight boxer, a shaman, a chain-gang convict, a fifties bluesman and a deep soul survivor. It held one million secrets and none at all.

I drink a bucket of white tea in the morning. I read about this tea of the Emperor of China, which is supposedly the tea of eternal youth. It's called Silver Needle. It's unbelievably expensive, but I get it on the Web.

She paused, cast her gaze to Tehol Beddict, and slowly frowned. 'You are rather shy for an emperor,' she observed. Tehol refuted that with the brightest smile, and it transformed him, and suddenly Lostara forgot all about the man's martial-looking brother. Spirits of the sand, those eyes…

Mages by nature never commanded loyalty. Fear, yes, and the respect born of fear, but the one thing a mage found difficult to understand or cope with was loyalty. And yet there had been one mage, long ago, who had commanded loyalty – and that was the Emperor.

Something awaits me. I do not mean this mad Emperor. Something else. Answer me this. How does one measure time?' 'By the course of the sun, the phases of the moon, the wheel of the stars. And, of course, in cities such as this one, the sounding of a bell at fixed intervals – a wholly absurd conceit and, indeed, one that is spiritually debilitating.

It's the ignorant who find a cause and cling to it, for within that is the illusion of significance. Faith, a king, queen or Emperor, or vengeance…all the bastion of fools. The

Es el ignorante quien encuentra una causa y se aferra a ella, ya que ahí radica la ilusión del significado. Fe, un rey, una reina o un emperador, o una venganza... El bastión completo de los bobos.

Odd, isn't it? After all, the Warren only appeared following the Emperor's assassination at Laseen's hand. Shadowthrone and his companion the Patron of Assassins – Cotillion – were unheard of before Kellanved and Dancer's deaths. It also seems that whatever . . . disagreement there is between House Shadow and Empress Laseen is, uhm, personal . . .

Would've made a good Emperor, I said. Not wanting the job is the best and only qualification worth considering

Constantine said, 'I am an emperor and a warrior, not a bishop or a martyr. A ruler by necessity must continue to sin until the very last day of his life.' Eusebius tried to object, but Constantine silenced him. He said, 'I have much to do in this life before I am ready to put sinning behind me.

To write about long-dead people is one thing. To write about one's own lifetime is different. And of course I must take care to avoid writing anything that gives offense to the emperor. Yes, I'm finding it difficult. But never fear, I shall finish it, and Philip will be impressed.

impressed. Commodus was the first emperor to be born heir to the throne—"born in the purple" as it was called in countries that had kings and royal dynasties—and he seemed completely at ease, behaving as if he had been emperor all his life.

Or at least that's what the emperor wants us to think. It's an old Roman ploy, pretending that an enemy is responsible for the start of a war we greatly desire to wage.

That's the problem with Domitian, isn't it?" said Lucius. "We never know what's real and what's not. All the city is a stage. Everything that happens is a spectacle put on by the emperor. One wonders if he himself knows any longer what's real.

The state is the emperor; the emperor is the state. The rest of us are like grains of sand on a beach: interchangeable, indistinguishable, inconsequential. A Roman citizen has no importance whatsoever, no matter how much some of us would like to pretend otherwise.

If Vespasian had a vice, it was greed. The emperor and his favorites had shamelessly exploited their positions to accrue enormous wealth, treating the Roman state as a moneymaking scheme for insiders. Vespasian famously put a tax on the city's latrinae, claiming a share of the money made by the sale of urine to fullers, who used it to clean wool. Thus the saying, "Even when you piss, the emperor takes a percentage.

He was a beautiful man, Tatrini thought, an enigmatic stranger. For a brief moment, she imagined how it might be if Almorante was allowed to be emperor. It was as if the future breathed on her neck. In another world, they would not be marching on Old Caradore now. In that world, Palindrake would be at Almorante's side. But we are not in that world, Tatrini told herself. We are in this one and I have made it to my liking.

The gods of Mewt are still very much alive, and not even the emperor would deign to destroy them.

They call him the hand of fire, the eye of the emperor. It is said that as he slays in your father's name, so your father witnesses the event. Valraven pledged himself to the fire. Yes, I know what he is, Varencienne. A traitor to his land, his gods.

Almorante will make a competent emperor, but he is not the beautiful sun king. When you defeat the dark lord, Valraven Palindrake, your name and your reputation will shine.

He was Caradorean, son of a conquered race. He was little more than a slave. Not like Val. Val had surrendered himself entirely to Magravandias, in body and soul. Now he was no longer the boy with whom Khaster had explored the forests above Norgance. Now he was the Dragon Lord, part of the emperor's inner circle, where Khaster would never be invited.

When she thought of the emperor, she could not imagine his ancestors involved in dark or magical deeds. He seemed so light and golden. And yet there was the dragon dream. She remembered the feelings it had inspired within her, and suddenly the secret history seemed much more credible.