Quotes About Strike

I strike fear into you because I am a man?" "It isn't funny." "I do not laugh. It is a sad thing, yes, that your husband is a man. A very terrible thing.

In Berlin, after she took part in a failed general strike and uprising, her petite figure with its large hat and parasol still considered a threat by right-wingers, Rosa Luxemburg was beaten and shot by army officers and her body dumped in a canal.

Emboldened by the Bolshevik takeover in Russia, and tired of endless war and shortages, some 400,000 workers went on strike in Berlin at the end of January 1918, demanding peace, new rights for labor, and a "people's republic.

One downward cut, she saw. One quick, final strike, and she could kill him. The landing lights of a shuttle appeared in the distance, coming over the trees in her direction. She had to make a decision, now. Kill him, a voice inside her head said. It was amorphous, unidentifiable, raw. Pure vengeful emotion. So easy, she told herself. So quick.

If you're going to vote on a television contract, there is a certain rationality to saying that the same structures that are applied to Health Plan participation should be placed on the right to vote on a strike.

Pax!" he bellowed as he struck. "Pax! Vobiscum! Love thy neighbour! Proximum tuum! Sicut te ipsum! Whoresons!

Excretion is his first concrete production and, through it, the child gains his first experience of labour relations. He may reserve the right to go on excremental strike or to engage in a form of faecal offensive. The excremental faculty is a manipulative device and to be baulked of the free control of it is to be deprived of the first, most elementary, expression of autonomy.

That was the way life was: it lay so quiet, so still that you put your fingers out to touch it, to stroke it. Then it leapt up and struck you full in the face so that you spun about and spun about, gasping. The flames leapt up all around, rising by inches every minute, rising in rings.

A labor strike will tear away a lot of the good things going for this league.

In 1986, I had gone on a hunger strike with Anand Patwardhan rooting for an alternative land for slum dwellers. My mother got very nervous and told my father to tell me that, 'what am I doing?' He sent me a telegram that read: 'Best of luck, comrade!'

Like other inveterate womanizers Strike had encountered, Duffield's voice and mannerisms were slightly camp. Perhaps such men became feminized by prolonged immersion in women's company, or perhaps it was a way of disarming their quarry.

Psychology's loss," said Strike, "is private detection's gain.

Experience had taught Strike that there was a certain type of woman to whom he was unusually attractive. Their common characteristics were intelligence and the flickering intensity of badly wired lamps.

Strike explained about his failed attempt to buy Robin perfume, the previous December. ' . . . so I asked the assistant, but he kept showing me things with names like . . . I dunno . . . "Shaggable You" . . . ' The laugh Robin failed to repress was so loud that people turned to look at her . . . ' . . . and I panicked,' Strike admitted . . .

Strike, who had been raised by a mother who listened mainly to metal bands, knew very little about classical music, but there was a looming, ominous quality about this music that he didn't particularly care for.

Doesn't anyone ever call you that, among all your many nicknames?' she wondered as they walked back through to the hall. 'Call me what?' '"Lightning" Strike?

My fees are negotiable,' said Strike, 'if I like the client.' He followed Leonora Quine into his office and closed the door behind him with a snap.

Yet Strike remained certain her flight to Ross had been self-immolation, done purely for spectacular effect, a Charlottian form of sati.

The model? Whoa.' But Spanner's interest in human beings, even when dead or famous, was still secondary to his fondness for rare comics, technological innovation, and bands of which Strike had never heard.

TAXI! TAXI!" Strike bellowed and it turned, heading towards him, just as Robin's voice spoke in his ear, gasping. "Are… you there?" "JESUS CHRIST! WHAT'S HAPPENED?" "Stop… shouting…" With enormous difficulty he modulated his volume.

Robin was standing there in her trench coat, her face pink, long red-gold hair loose, tousled and gilded in the early sunlight streaming through the window. Just then, Strike found her beautiful.

They walked fifty yards in silence, and Strike had lit up a cigarette before he said: "Very, very impressive." Robin glowed with pride.

was very wealthy, something that Strike had not realised until the first night he had been permitted to come back to the marital home and found himself in a spacious, wood-floored apartment overlooking Regent's

Robin turned her iPad so that Strike could see it. He moved his chair in: Robin felt his knee bump hers.