Quotes About Justice

Distressing to be hated because of lies, isn't it. (Mirella) Especially when there are so many legitimate reasons to be hated. (Schramm)

For five weeks, the Associated Press had provided the world with lurid coverage of the attack on Virgil Earp, which was labeled Cow Boy revenge for what was being called "the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral" because it took too long to set the type for "Gunfight in the Vacant Lot behind Camillus Fly's Photography Studio Near Fremont Street.

here's what good people do: We don't give up. We will not be cowed. We will refute their lies. We will get the vote, and we will use it. We will take them to court. We will march in their streets, and we will fight for justice every damned step of the way.

Whatever you worship will consume you, Dong-Sing wrote one week. Bob Wright worships money. Wyatt Earp worships justice. Eddie Foy worships applause. Doc worships home and family, as I do. How will this consume us?

I would not have voted for the man," Doc admitted, "but this—" He lifted a fine-boned hand toward the street, where small groups of Cow Boys were now tearing down Allen on horseback, shooting at the sky and racing beyond the city limits before the police could do anything about the ruckus. "This is indecent.

No, sir," Wyatt insisted. "There can't be one law for rich Texans and another law for broke Texans, and another law for Negroes, and another one for Chinamen, and squaws, and Irishmen, and whores, and another one for everybody else. I can't parse it that way, Dog! I am not that smart! There's got to be one law for everybody, or I can't do this job. You want my badge or not?

On the afternoon of October 26, 1881, the Earps were incorruptible, intrepid lawmen bravely marching off to protect the city from gun-toting outlaws. The next morning, they were cold-blooded killers who'd murdered three men on a public street because of some kind of personal feud between Doc Holliday and Ike Clanton.

As far as Wyatt Earp knew, it was not illegal to beat a horse. In the past few years, he'd worked as a part-time policeman in a string of Kansas cow towns. Each time he was sworn in, he made an effort to study the ordinances he was supposed to enforce, but he wasn't much of a reader. In Ellsworth, he asked a lawyer for some help. "Wyatt," the man told him, "the entire criminal code of the State of Kansas boils down to four words. Don't kill the customers.

Spoke again,and this time he understood, Someone's father once her that it was better to die than to live wrongly. I say: better to live rightly

The hurts of childhood that must be avenged: so small and so huge.

But you are breaking the law! Yes. I am. Take this message to your masters – your Faris: I will continue to break the law, at all times, if the law is wrong. Stilted, and still a little pompous, Charles of Burgundry said, Honour is above Law. Honour and chivalry demand we protect the weak. It would be morally wrong to give the woman to you, when every man listening here knows that you will butcher her.

When someone is mean to me, I just make them a victim in my next book.

Dat heeft die klootzak verdiend... - Vittoria Massi, vader van Giuliana na het doodsteken van Rinaldo di Chimici

My grandma Ruth used to say there's a little felon in the best of us.

Hubris calls for nemesis, and in one form or another it's going to get it, not as a punishment from outside but as the completion of a pattern already started.

You are simple, brave, and honest. With training, you could be excellent warriors. Not me, said Annie. I don't like to fight. Sometimes one must fight for the right things, said the emperor. Like what? said Jack. Freedom and justice, and the emperor. Truth.

A retarded daughter told contradictory tales of sexual abuse by her step-brother and other male relatives… So here we have a girl who probably made up the story in the first place.

To gibbet is to dip a corpse in tar and suspend it in a flat iron cage (the gibbet) in plain view of townsfolk while it rots and gets pecked apart by crows. A stroll through the square must have been a whole different plate of tamales back then.

Double sentencing wasn't a new idea, but rather the latest variation on the theme. Before that, a murderer might be hanged and then drawn and quartered, wherein horses were tied to his limbs and spurred off in four directions, the resultant "quarters" being impaled on spikes and publicly displayed, as a colorful reminder to the citizenry of the ill-advisedness of crime.

Gibbeting—though it hits the ear like a word for happy playground chatter or perhaps, at worst, the cleaning of small game birds—is in fact a ghastly verb. To gibbet is to dip a corpse in tar and suspend it in a flat iron cage (the gibbet) in plain view of townsfolk while it rots and gets pecked apart by crows. A stroll through the square must have been a whole different plate of tamales back then.

In my criminal work anything that wears skirts is a lady, until the law proves her otherwise. From the frayed and slovenly petticoats of the woman who owns a poultry stand in the market and who has grown wealthy by selling chickens at twelve ounces to the pound, or the silk sweep of Mamie Tracy, whose diamonds have been stolen down on the avenue...

You accuse me of murder; and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, Praise the eternal justice of man!

When one creature is murdered, another is immediately deprived of life in a slow torturing manner; then the executioners, their hands yet reeking with the blood of innocence, believe that they have done a great deed.

Who could be interested in the fate of a murderer, but the hangman who would gain his fee?