Guy Fawkes Quotes

Remember, remember the Fifth of November, The Gunpowder Treason and Plot, I know of no reason Why the gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot. Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t’was his intent To blow up the King and Parli’ment. Three-score barrels of powder below To prove old England’s overthrow; By God’s providence he was catch’d With a dark lantern and burning match. Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring. Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!

Someone should tell you you're beautiful every time the sun comes up. Someone should tell you you're beautiful on Wednesdays. And at teatime. Someone should tell you you're beautiful on Christmas Day and Christmas Eve and the evening before Christmas Eve, and on Easter. He should tell you on Guy Fawkes Night and on New Year's, and on the eigth of August, just because.

Remember remember the fifth of November Gunpowder, treason and plot. I see no reason why gunpowder, treason Should ever be forgot...

The only politician ever to have entered parliament with honourable intentions, was Guy Fawkes.

Missis was, she dared say, glad enough to get rid of such a tiresome, ill-conditioned child, who always looked as if she were watching everybody, and scheming plots underhand." Abbot, I think, gave me credit for being a sort of infantine Guy Fawkes.

Abbot, I think, gave me credit for being a sort of infantine Guy Fawkes.

Remember, Remember, the fifth of November, the Gunpowder treason and plot; I know of no reason why the Gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot! Guy Fawkes, Guys Fawkes, 'twas his intent To blow up the King and Parliament; Threescore barrels of powder below, Poor old England to overthrow. By God's providence he was catch'd, With a dark lantern and burning match.

No one has ever told me that I'm beautiful before," Hazel said. She hadn't realized it was true until she said it out loud. Jack stood with his hands on either side of her face and stared at her for a few heartbeats. Then he leaned in and softly kissed both her eyelids. "Someone should tell you that you're beautiful every time the sun comes up. Someone should tell you you're beautiful on Wednesdays. And at teatime. Someone should tell you you're beautiful on Christmas Day and Christmas Eve and the evening before Christmas Eve, and on Easter. He should tell you on Guy Fawkes Night and on New Year's, and on the eighth of August, just because." He kissed her lips once more, gently, and then pulled away and gazed into her eyes. "Hazel Sinnett, you are the most miraculous creature I have ever come across, and I am going to be thinking about how beautiful you are until the day I die.

Abbot, I think, gave me credit for being a sort of infantine Guy Fawkes. On

Guy Fawkes Night,

Missis was, she dared say, glad enough to get rid of such a tiresome, ill-conditioned child, who always looked as if she were watching everybody, and scheming plots underhand.”  Abbot, I think, gave me credit for being a sort of infantine Guy Fawkes.

I stomped down the hallway, twisted the latch on the front door, and yanked it open. ‘Are you… “Ozzy Zig”?’ said Guy Fawkes, in a thick Brummie accent. ‘Who wants to know?’ I said, folding my arms. ‘Terry Butler,’ he said. ‘I saw your ad.’ That was exactly what I’d hoped he was going to say. Truth was, I’d been waiting a long time for this moment. I’d dreamed about it. I’d fantasised about it. I’d had conversations with myself on the shitter about it. One day, I thought, people might write newspaper articles about my ad in the window of Ringway Music, saying it was the turning point in the life of John Michael Osbourne, ex-car horn tuner. ‘Tell me, Mr Osbourne,’ I’d be asked by Robin Day on the BBC, ‘when you were growing up in Aston, did you ever think that a simple advert in a music shop window would lead to you becoming the fifth member of the Beatles, and your sister Iris getting married to Paul McCartney?’ And I’d answer, ‘Never in a million years, Robin, never in a million years.’ It was a f**king awesome ad.

During this time, Ainsworth met Charles Dickens and introduced the young writer to the publisher Macrone and to George Cruikshank. Ainsworth also introduced Dickens to

Someone should tell you that you're beautiful every time the sun comes up. Someone should tell you you're beautiful on Wednesdays. And at teatime. Someone should tell you you're beautiful on Christmas Day and Christmas Eve and the evening before Christmas Eve, and on Easter. He should tell you on Guy Fawkes Night and on New Year's, and on the eighth of August, just because.

Eminent, eminent people, one and all, members of the Society for the Prevention of Fantasy, advocators of the banishment of Halloween and Guy Fawkes, killers of bats, burners of books, bearers of torches; good clean citizens, every one, who had waited until the rough men had come up and buried the Martians and cleansed the cities and built the towns and repaired the highways and made everything safe. And then, with everything well on its way to Safety, the Spoil-Funs, the people with mercurochrome for blood and iodine-colored eyes, came now to set up their Moral Climates and dole out goodness to everyone.

El viento soplaba desde el mar. Y todas las ventanas de los dormitorios estaban a oscuras: los pajes dormían, los garfios dormían, los gruñones dormían, mientras que en Londres a esa hora estaban quemando a Guy Fawkes en la colina del Parlamento.

Listen, first of all, don’t get all hot and bothered about this thing you insist on calling ‘a plot’. You don’t have to have a ‘plot’; it sounds like Guy Fawkes in his old cloak, creeping with a lantern. You don’t even have to have action (think of Proust). But you must have a real reason for it all, a reason for the things you want to say.

Eminent, eminent people, one and all, members of the Society for the Prevention of Fantasy, advocators of the banishment of Halloween and Guy Fawkes, killers of bats, burners of books, bearers of torches; good clean citizens, every one, who had waited until the rough men had come up and buried the Martians and cleansed the cities and built the towns and repaired the highways and made everything safe.

Someone should tell you that you’re beautiful every time the sun comes up. Someone should tell you you’re beautiful on Wednesdays. And at teatime. Someone should tell you you’re beautiful on Christmas Day and Christmas Eve and the evening before Christmas Eve, and on Easter. He should tell you on Guy Fawkes Night and on New Year’s, and on the eighth of August, just because.” He kissed her lips once more, gently, and then pulled away and gazed into her eyes. “Hazel Sinnett, you are the most miraculous creature I have ever come across, and I am going to be thinking about how beautiful you are until the day I die.

Jethro had a scar near one of his eyes, an angry tear that scraped through his eyebrow and reached up to his forehead where it disappeared beneath his hairline. In winter he wore black motorcycle boots and a checked sheepskin jacket that was orange and brown. He had sideburns like a man and the other kids said his eyes were like laser beams in comics, that your face would explode if he even looked at you. That was why he wore those steel-rimmed reflective sunglasses, they said, as he cruised around in his car with his hairy arm out the window, fingers spread wide on the door. Jethro Sands was like the scariest crackers on Guy Fawkes Night. He was the loudest thunder, the meanest dog. Out of everyone she was scared of Jethro Sands the most. She imagined buildings and trees bursting into flame on either side of the road as he drove along, turning his head slowly from side to side. He was threatening, noxious. Dark.

merci à tous les connards, les esprits stériles, les têtes vides et les créateurs d'étrons qui cherchent à faire bloquer les vidéos de ‪#‎NO_VASELINE_FATWA‬ sur Youtube en les signalant comme contenu abusif sachez que c'est des vidéos protégées dans mon disque dur, sur DCP et surtout dans le coeur des fans & que la révolution est inéluctablement en route :) et puis je vais sortir un DVD et un BLURAY collector de la série dans quelques semaines pour terminer le blitzkrieg No Vaseline Fatwa. je renonce à mes droits d'auteur sur No Vaseline Fatwa, ca appartient à ceux qui veulent la propager. donc fuck la pensée unique. vive Orwell. Vive Guy Fawkes. Fuck 1984 (ou l'inverse) à ces connards qui se sont concertés massivement pour bloquer ces vidéos, je dédie l'épisode #3 de K7al Rass pour trouver un sens à leur vie et une recette de cuisine originale... merci pour la liberté de création, merci pour la bêtise, merci pour l'art propre, merci de me faire de la pub gratuitement... et pour ceux qui veulent No Vaseline Fatwa 2. ils faut partager et téléchargera saison#1 et comme dit Gi Scott-heron : The Revolution Won't be...

GUY FAWKES; OR, A COMPLETE HISTORY OF THE GUNPOWDER TREASON, A.D. 1605; WITH A DEVELOPEMENT OF THE PRINCIPLES OF THE CONSPIRATORS, AND SOME NOTICES OF THE REVOLUTION OF 1688. BY THE REV. THOMAS LATHBURY, M.A.,

I'd say "what are the odds?", but I don't believe in odds anymore. I believe in a universe with a very specific and occasionally cruel sense of humor. But its cruelty is refining, if you survive it. (Upon learning a housemate was related to Guy Fawkes)

Dat klopt." Kenelm schraapt zijn keel. "Je hebt wel gehoord van the gunpowder plot, neem ik aan?" Antonie knikt, bijna opgelucht. Hij heeft er meer dan eens over horen vertellen: het complot waarbij een groep katholieken van plan was het parlement op te blazen om King James te doden. "Ze waren teleurgesteld over het gebrek aan religieuze hervorming, nadat hij koningin Elizabeth had opgevolgd. Op het laatste moment werd het plan verijdeld. Samenzweerder Guy Fawkes werd in de kelder van het gebouw betrapt tussen de tonnen met explosieven en stierf een marteldood. Voor zover Antonie wist waren ook de anderen opgespoord en gedood.

I regard President Trump as the USA version of Guy Fawkes!

I viewed President Trump as the modern day version of Guy Fawkes.

Someone should tell you that you're beautiful every time the sun comes up. Someone should tell you you're beautiful on Wednesdays. And at teatime. Someone should tell you you're beautiful on Christmas Day and Christmas Eve and the evening before Christmas Eve, and on Easter. He should tell you on Guy Fawkes Night and on New Year's...

Someone should tell you that you’re beautiful every time the sun comes up. Someone should tell you you’re beautiful on Wednesdays. And at teatime. Someone should tell you you’re beautiful on Christmas Day and Christmas Eve and the evening before Christmas Eve, and on Easter. He should tell you on Guy Fawkes Night and on New Year’s, and on the eighth of August, just because.

Rookwood garnered wide critical and financial success, and pleased his associates at Fraser's Magazine.

The ubiquitous Guy Fawkes mask, once a symbol of failure (the mask was first worn by “Epic Fail Guy”) and then a symbol of lulz, had undergone yet another transformation—it was now a rallying cry for social justice.

because

Aristotelian

to allow freedom of human action, and yet faithfully to maintain Absolute Truth concerning the Infinite and the Eternal — or that which is believed to be

giving account of meeting at Fremland, Essex, in July, 1605 — Present thereat (amongst others) Lord Mounteagle, his brother-in-law Francis Tresham, and Father Henry Garnet, then Superior of English Jesuits —

Thomas Warde, of “Mulwith,” in 1590 — Inference of propinquity between Christopher Wright and Thomas Warde, at least between years 1589 and 1590 inclusive —

rare and costly books for a twelve-month together; in certain cases, advice and counsel; in other cases, the revising of proof sheets, the translation from foreign tongues, and the transcription of Elizabethan and Jacobean documents: — To the Rev. F. A. Russell, York, formerly of India; the Rev. Edmond Nolan, B.A., St. Edmund’s House, Cambridge; the Rev. Richard Sharp, S.J., Skipton-in-Craven, Yorks.; the

E mentres pronunciaba afectadamente estas palabras, horrorizouna decatarse da baixa opinión que se estaba a formar do outro sexo, o masculino, ao que unha vez sentira o orgullo de pertencer: "Caer dun mastro", pensou, " por verlle os nocellos a unha muller; vestirse de Guy Fawkes e percorrer as rúas para que as mulleres te admiren; privar á muller de educación para que non se ría de ti; ser escravo da maior miñaxoia con enaguas e aínda así andar por ahí coma se foses o Señor da creación. Santo ceo!", pensou, "como se rin de nós... canta risa damos!

Think of yourself rather as something much humbler and less spectacular, but to my mind, far more interesting—a poet in whom live all the poets of the past, from whom all poets in time to come will spring. You have a touch of Chaucer in you, and something of Shakespeare; Dryden, Pope, Tennyson—to mention only the respectable among your ancestors—stir in your blood and sometimes move your pen a little to the right or to the left. In short you are an immensely ancient, complex, and continuous character, for which reason please treat yourself with respect and think twice before you dress up as Guy Fawkes and spring out upon timid old ladies at street corners, threatening death and demanding twopence–halfpenny.

A pity it is so big,’ said Jack, turning it over. ‘I remember when I was a boy in Ajax, and the Apollon was blazing away at us like Guy Fawkes’s night, a spent eighteen-pound ball came in at our port. The lieutenant – it was Mr Horner: you remember him, Bonden?’ ‘Oh yes, sir. A very sprightly gentleman, that loved his laugh.’ ‘He picked it up, called for a piece of chalk, wrote Post Paid on the ball, rammed it down our gun, and so sent it back in double quick time.’ ‘Ha, ha, ha!’ went the gun-crew and their neighbours on either side.

I remember when I was a boy in Ajax, and the Apollon was blazing away at us like Guy Fawkes’s night, a spent eighteen-pound ball came in at our port. The lieutenant – it was Mr Horner: you remember him, Bonden?’ ‘Oh yes, sir. A very sprightly gentleman, that loved his laugh.’ ‘He picked it up, called for a piece of chalk, wrote Post Paid on the ball, rammed it down our gun, and so sent it back in double quick time.’ ‘Ha, ha, ha!’ went the gun-crew and their neighbours on either side.

I remember when I was a boy in Ajax, and the Apollon was blazing away at us like Guy Fawkes’s night, a spent eighteen-pound ball came in at our port. The lieutenant – it was Mr Horner: you remember him, Bonden?’ ‘Oh yes, sir. A very sprightly gentleman, that loved his laugh.’ ‘He picked it up, called for a piece of chalk, wrote Post Paid on the ball, rammed it down our gun, and so sent it back in double quick time.’ ‘Ha, ha, ha!’ went the gun-crew and their neighbours on either side. ‘And not long after that, he was made a post-captain, ha, ha, ha!

An explosion.” She looked up from the closely written sheets. “Who do you think you are—Guy Fawkes?

Somebody should tell you that you're beautiful every time the sun comes up. Someone should tell you you're beautiful on Wednesdays. And at tea time. Someone should tell you you're beautiful on Christmas Day and Christmas Eve and the evening before Christmas Eve, and on Easter. He should tell you on Guy Fawkes Night and on New Year's, and on the eight of August, just because.

remember

One of the penalties for refusing to participate in politics is that you end up being governed by your inferiors.” – Plato

In politics stupidity is not a handicap.” – Napoleon Bonaparte

My problem is that if I engage in political activism, then the ultimate conclusion is always revolution. I'm a big Guy Fawkes fan, what can I say. I see the "democratic" system here as obsolete and wide open to corruption. I do have a solution, and it qualifies as a response to the degree of connection that has developed since the creation of parliament. Back then, people were obliged to have a representative (albeit a corrupt one) at the seat of power to ensure their best interests were being looked after. We don't suffer from distance like we used to, and the ubiquity of the internet means that people, close to the entire population are connected in communicative union that lends itself to a sort of hive government. As a citizen of a country your duty would be to engage in a nominal percentage of votes a year, with anyone with the support of a given number of voters able to table bills, which everyone then votes on. The next step would be an AI administrator to this networked hub....no, wait, a quantum AI administrator, call it Mother, a dynamic of algorithms that bears no consideration to a ten million pounds backhander, or the ethnicity of the citizen, but only serves self governance and the welfare of the populace. It sounds like a crazy sci-fi plotline, but it's absolutely doable.

Shortly after Trump’s media event, Democratic Senator Chuck Schumer published a parody. Watch excerpts from the original and then Schumer’s satire, which begins at minute 1:01 of this NBC News report.

About marijuana: “This drug is dangerous,” he said last year, adding, “Good people don’t smoke marijuana.

In 1996, when serving as Alabama’s attorney general, he promoted H.B. 242, S.B. 291, a state bill to establish mandatory death sentences for a second drug trafficking conviction, including for dealing marijuana

from a speech on Saturday, November 21, 2015, in Birmingham, Ala.: “Hey, I watched when the World Trade Center came tumbling down. And I watched in Jersey City, N.J., where thousands and thousands of people were cheering as that building was coming down. Thousands of people were cheering.

I think I’ve made a lot of sacrifices. I work very, very hard. I’ve created thousands and thousands of jobs, tens of thousands of jobs, built great structures. I’ve had tremendous success. I think I’ve done a lot.

Click here to watch John Oliver trash Trump’s “sacrifices.

14. He’s denied climate change. Then denied that he denied it.​​ Here’s Trump calling global warming a conspiracy created by the Chinese: The concept of global warming was created by and for the Chinese in order to make U.S. manufacturing non-competitive. @realDonaldTrump – 11:15 AM – 6 Nov 2012 More tweets of him calling global warming a hoax… NBC News just called it the great freeze – coldest weather in years. Is our country still spending money on the GLOBAL WARMING HOAX? @realDonaldTrump – 3:48 PM – 25 Jan 2014 This very expensive GLOBAL WARMING bullshit has got to stop. Our planet is freezing, record low temps,and our GW scientists are stuck in ice @realDonaldTrump – 4:39 PM – 1 Jan 2014 Ice storm rolls from Texas to Tennessee – I’m in Los Angeles and it’s freezing. Global warming is a total, and very expensive, hoax! @realDonaldTrump – 7:13 AM – 6 Dec 2013 Then, during a presidential debate with Hillary Clinton, Trump denied that he said any of this. Here’s the video. Clinton says, “Donald thinks that climate change is a hoax, perpetrated by the Chinese. I think it’s real.” Trump interrupts to say, “I do not say that. I do not say that.” Actually, Donald, you’ve said nothing else. Trump has also said, dozens of times in tweets like this, that global warming sounds like a great idea: It’s freezing and snowing in New York–we need global warming! @realDonaldTrump – 11:24 AM – 7 Nov 2012 Here he is hating wind turbines: It’s Friday. How many bald eagles did wind turbines kill today? They are an environmental & aesthetic disaster. @realDonaldTrump – 12:55 PM – 24 Aug 2012 Trump fought against a “really ugly” offshore wind farm in Scotland because it would mar the view from his Scottish golf resort. My new club on the Atlantic Ocean in Ireland will soon be one of the best in the World – and no-one will be looking into ugly wind turbines! @realDonaldTrump – 5:24 AM – 14 Feb 2014

The most important thing in the system is that the winners win and the losers lose,” said Mark Braden, former chief counsel of the Republican National Committee. “Almost as important as that is that the rational people that support the loser believes that the winner won.

In the final scene of the film V for Vendetta (2006), thousands of unarmed Londoners wearing Guy Fawkes masks march towards Parliament; without orders, the military allows the crowd to pass into Parliament, and the people take over. As Finch asks Evey for V’s identity, she replies: ‘He was all of us.’ OK, a nice ecstatic moment, but I am ready to sell my mother into slavery in order to see V for Vendetta, Part 2: what would have happened the day after the victory of the people; how would they (re)organize daily life?

We find, therefore, that the pulpit was often made a vehicle for publishing the common news of the day. At a subsequent period, during the commotions between Charles I. and his Parliament, when the latter obtained possession of most of the pulpits, they were the only channels through which many of the people were made acquainted with the progress of the war. Whatever had occurred during the week was published to the people, from the pulpit, on the Sunday[6].