Quotes About Injustice

Social injustice is such a familiar phenomenon, it has such a sturdy constitution, that it is readily regarded as something natural even by its victims.

Unfortunately, in the social as in the political world, the victims are such cowards that one cannot for long remain indignant with their executioners.

the reigns of the kings and queens who are portrayed as kneeling with clasped hands in the windows of churches, were stained by oppression and bloodshed.

Husbands in wheelbarrows, sons stoned and deprived of food, forced to labour amidst jeers and finally thrown into pits and buried alive because they were said to be sickening of the plague and might infect the community. The few who succeeded in escaping suddenly reappeared and added new and terrifying details to this picture of horror.

Those who have put out the people's eyes, reproach them of their blindness.

Joined by retired Democratic senator George Mitchell and former Senate aide Charlie Scheeler, DLA Piper sought to protect the avaricious interests of its clients, including one of the retailers identified with the factory collapse (Gap), at the expense of the people and economy of Bangladesh.1

Rapacious great power is ruthless and vindictive; many of us can't imagine because we're not like that in our lives. John Pilger

I love long regarded my country as a secret, as a land half-won, its story half-told. It was as if the past was another country, mysterious and unexplained. 'Australian history' either was not taught or was not required for 'higher learning'. Contemporary history was unheard of. Black history was ridiculed. Historians and politicians, more concerned with imperial propriety than truth, covered up and distorted.

The Aboriginal opportunity today is the equivalent of the Quebec issue in the 1960s and 70s. As with the francophones of that era, so the Aboriginals today are ready for a struggle to right the wrongs. And a growing number of non-Aboriginal Canadians are with them.

The nature of life prior to enlightenment was necessarily and irreparably a morass of injustice—the rule was as solidly inflexible as Tlschp's Law of the Balance of Entropy.

It does not cost money only. It costs degradation. You do not merely employ these people. You also tread upon them.

Fuckin' trash, he thought. Where were the cops when you needed one?

You think this man is the enemy? Huh? This is a worker! Any union keeps this man out ain't a union, it's a goddam club! They got you fightin' white against colored, native against foreign, hollow against hollow, when you know there ain't but two sides in this world — them that work and them that don't. You work, they don't. That's all you need to know about the enemy.

It's just a reminder that war favors the rich. The ones who can leave, do. The ones who can't, suffer." Kiva was silent for a moment. Then, "Fuck you for having a conscience, Tomi.

Imagine waking up and finding your first and last view of the world was a shotgun barrel. That'd be a hell of a life.

The short version was death, disease, despots and destruction. The longer version had kept him up wondering what the hell was wrong with people.

We're in the wrong universe for fair.

There's no but. You're right. It's just a reminder that war favors the rich. The ones who can leave, do. The ones who can't, suffer.

There is a crime here that goes beyond denunciation. There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize. There is a failure here that topples all our success.

We do know that we are cheated from birth to the overcharge on our coffins.

We're sorry. It's not us. It's the monster. The bank isn't a man. The bank isn't like a man. Yes, but the bank is only made of men.

Why, they're the dirtiest guys in any town. They're the same ones that burned the houses of old German people during the war. They're the same ones that lynch Negroes. They like to be cruel. They like to hurt people, and they always give it a nice name, patriotism or protecting the constitution.

Well, you keep your place then, nigger. I could get you strung up on a tree so easy it ain't even funny." Crooks had reduced himself to nothing. There was no personality, no ego—nothing to arouse either like or dislike. He said, "Yes, ma'am," and his voice was toneless.

Why do you got to get killed? You ain't so little as mice.