Hail To The Queen Quotes

I will kneel to only one ruler, and I will se only one person crowned this say. The age of the Lanstovs is over." He sank to one knee. "Let the Nazyalensky dynasty begin. All hail the Dragon Queen.

I had a few other things on my mind. Like if it was going to rain every time I got aroused. That was not cool. I guessed I could handle it so long as it rained other times as well. I didn’t want the connection to be so obvious. Hey, it’s raining! The queen must have gotten laid. Ooh…is that hail? Must have been into some kinky shit today.

Manon didn’t move as Glennis lifted the crown and set it again on Manon’s head. Then the ancient witch knelt in the snow. “What was stolen has been restored; what was lost has come home again. I hail thee, Manon Crochan, Queen of Witches.” Manon stood fast against the tremor that threatened to buckle her legs. Stood fast as the other Crochans, Bronwen with them, dropped to a knee. Dorian, standing amongst them, smiled, brighter and freer than she’d ever seen. And then the Thirteen knelt, two fingers going to their brows as they bowed their heads, fierce pride lighting their faces. “Queen of Witches,” Crochan and Blackbeak declared as one voice. As one people.

And I feel like the Queen of Water. I feel like water that transforms from a flowing river to a tranquil lake to a powerful waterfall to a freshwater spring to a meandering creek to a salty sea to raindrops gentle on your face to hard, stinging hail to frost on a mountaintop, and back to a river again.

She is the harbinger of nightmares as well as death, destruction, and insanity. Said to reign in an alternate dimension, a bleak and desertlike twilight version of reality, Lilith has long been hailed as the queen of mental darkness.

This is for you." i pressed the stone in Kerwyn's hand. Kerwyn turned it over in his hands, unimpressed. "imatator's gold? It's worthless." "No, it's real gold. I am real Kerwyn." ... He pulled a creased and worn paper from his pocket and unfolded it. His hands shook increasingly as he read it. Then he turned to the audience and said, "This note was given to me by King Eckbert ... to read it only if someone ever came forward claiming to be the prince. This is what it says." He read aloud, "'Many may one day claim to be the lost prince of Carthya. ... You will know the Prince Jaron by one sign alone. He will give you the humblest of rocks and tell you it's gold.'" ... "Lords and ladies of Carthya, I present to you the son of King Eckbert and Queen Erin. He is the lost royal of Carthya, who lives and stands before you. Hail, Prince Jaron.

Down through the centuries, the Church has carefully preserved, protected, and defended its Marian teachings, because to give them up would be to give up the gospel.

To Selene (Moon) Hear, Goddess queen, diffusing silver light, bull-horn'd and wand'ring thro' the gloom of Night. With stars surrounded, and with circuit wide Night's torch extending, thro' the heav'ns you ride: Female and Male with borrow'd rays you shine, and now full-orb'd, now tending to decline. Mother of ages, fruit-producing Moon [Mene], whose amber orb makes Night's reflected noon: Lover of horses, splendid, queen of Night, all-seeing pow'r bedeck'd with starry light. Lover of vigilance, the foe of strife, in peace rejoicing, and a prudent life: Fair lamp of Night, its ornament and friend, who giv'st to Nature's works their destin'd end. Queen of the stars, all-wife Diana hail! Deck'd with a graceful robe and shining veil; Come, blessed Goddess, prudent, starry, bright, come moony-lamp with chaste and splendid light, Shine on these sacred rites with prosp'rous rays, and pleas'd accept thy suppliant's mystic praise.

A covenant differs from a contract almost as much as marriage differs from prostitution.

All hail, Queen Shit-of-Liesville!

Emperor Haile Selassie was certainly a defining figure in both Ethiopian and African history, and as Rastafarians revere Haile Selassie as the returned messiah, it’s possible that the routes of Rastafarianism are deep-seated in the Queen of Sheba. Trip on that! A queen who was part Genie, or Djinn, is possibly the focus of Rastafarianism

Both Saint Bernard and Saint Bonaventure say that the Queen of Heaven is certainly no less grateful and conscientious than gracious and well-mannered people of this world. Just as she excels in all other perfections, she surpasses us all in the virtue of gratitude; so she would never let us honor her with love and respect without repaying us one hundred fold. Saint Bonaventure says that Mary will greet us with grace if we greet her with the Hail Mary.

Saint Augustine said that the New Testament is concealed in the Old, and the Old is revealed in the New.

In order that Christ’s body might be shown to be a real body, He was born of a woman. In order that His Godhead might be made clear, He was born of a virgin.

Lean on me,” I sang. “When you’re not strong. And I’ll be your friend. I’ll help you carry on.

There’s always more, Avery. Between us, there will always be more.

Hail Heliod, Lord of Breakfast,” Xenagos shouted. “And Thassa, Queen of Puddles!

The Pilgrim Queen (A Song) There sat a Lady all on the ground, Rays of the morning circled her round, Save thee, and hail to thee, Gracious and Fair, In the chill twilight what wouldst thou there? 'Here I sit desolate,' sweetly said she, 'Though I'm a queen, and my name is Marie: Robbers have rifled my garden and store, Foes they have stolen my heir from my bower. 'They said they could keep Him far better than I, In a palace all His, planted deep and raised high. 'Twas a palace of ice, hard and cold as were they, And when summer came, it all melted away. 'Next would they barter Him, Him the Supreme, For the spice of the desert, and gold of the stream; And me they bid wander in weeds and alone, In this green merry land which once was my own.' I look'd on that Lady, and out from her eyes Came the deep glowing blue of Italy's skies; And she raised up her head and she smiled, as a Queen On the day of her crowning, so bland and serene. 'A moment,' she said, 'and the dead shall revive; The giants are failing, the Saints are alive; I am coming to rescue my home and my reign, And Peter and Philip are close in my train.

Empis! Hail Leah of the Gallien! HAIL YOUR QUEEN!” I think it was a boffo line to go out on, as my dad might have said, but I’ll never know for sure, because that’s when the hinges fell out of my knees and I lost consciousness. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Homer's Hymn to the Moon Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition; dated 1818. Daughters of Jove, whose voice is melody, Muses, who know and rule all minstrelsy Sing the wide-winged Moon! Around the earth, From her immortal head in Heaven shot forth, Far light is scattered—boundless glory springs; Where'er she spreads her many-beaming wings The lampless air glows round her golden crown. But when the Moon divine from Heaven is gone Under the sea, her beams within abide, Till, bathing her bright limbs in Ocean's tide, Clothing her form in garments glittering far, And having yoked to her immortal car The beam-invested steeds whose necks on high Curve back, she drives to a remoter sky A western Crescent, borne impetuously. Then is made full the circle of her light, And as she grows, her beams more bright and bright Are poured from Heaven, where she is hovering then, A wonder and a sign to mortal men. The Son of Saturn with this glorious Power Mingled in love and sleep—to whom she bore Pandeia, a bright maid of beauty rare Among the Gods, whose lives eternal are. Hail Queen, great Moon, white-armed Divinity, Fair-haired and favourable! thus with thee My song beginning, by its music sweet Shall make immortal many a glorious feat Of demigods, with lovely lips, so well Which minstrels, servants of the Muses, tell.

Kings can be autocratic, usually are. But queens give up some power to survive. They must work more closely with ministers, accept the views of others. They are hailed as skilled in compromise and bringing people together, whereas kings are congratulated for deciding, commanding.

Hail, many-colour'd messenger, that ne'er Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers, And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown My bosky acres and my unshrubb'd down, Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy queen Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green?

The polished wood door is still carved with an enormous and sinister face, still flanked with lanterns, but sprites no longer fly in desperate circles within. A soft glow of magic emanates instead. 'My king,' the door says fondly, it's eyes opening. Cardan smiles in return. 'My door,' he says with a slight hitch in his voice, as though perhaps everything about returning here feel strange. 'Hail and welcome,' it says, and swings wide.

Oh, thou dark Hindoo half of nature, who of drowned bones hast builded thy separate throne somewhere in the heart of these unverdured seas; thou art an infidel, thou queen, and too truly speakest to me in the wide-slaughtering Typhoon, and the hushed burial of its after calm. Nor has this thy whale sunwards turned his dying head, and then gone round again, without a lesson to me. Oh, trebly hooped and welded hip of power! Oh, high aspiring, rainbowed jet!--that one strivest, this one jettest all in vain! In vain, oh whale, dost thou seek intercedings with yon all-quickening sun, that only calls forth life, but gives it not again. Yet dost thou, darker half, rock me with a prouder, if a darker faith. All thy unnamable imminglings float beneath me here; I am buoyed by breaths of once living things, exhaled as air, but water now. Then hail, for ever hail, O sea, in whose eternal tossings the wild fowl finds his only rest. Born of earth, yet suckled by the sea; though hill and valley mothered me, ye billows are my foster-brothers!

life dies sunwards full of faith; but see! no sooner dead, than death whirls round the corpse, and it heads some other way. Oh, thou dark Hindoo half of nature, who of drowned bones hast builded thy separate throne somewhere in the heart of these unverdured seas; thou art an infidel, thou queen, and too truly speakest to me in the wide-slaughtering Typhoon, and the hushed burial of its after calm. Nor has this thy whale sunwards turned his dying head, and then gone round again, without a lesson to me. Then hail, for ever hail, O sea, in whose eternal tossings the wild fowl finds his only rest. Born of earth, yet suckled by the sea; though hill and valley mothered me, ye billows are my foster-brothers!

Outside The Museum (The Sonnet) Enough with, patria o muerte*! Enough with, god save the queen! Enough with, heil hitler! Enough with, o say can you see! Bronze age beings yell about national glory, Stone age beings yell about religious glory. Electric beings got no time for such make-believe, On their shoulders walks the present of humanity. There is no earth till all roots combine, Till we crave for each other all roots are chains. Museums add perspective on the direction of life, But to spend a life in museum is life lost in vain. Enough with vande mataram**, it's time for vasudhaiva kutumbakam***. To hell with nation, culture and tradition, civilization awaits outside the museum. (*homeland or death, *hail the motherland, ***world is family)

We find this more cosmic aspect of the Marian archetype expressed in the person of Galadriel’s own heavenly patroness, Elbereth, Queen of the Stars, who plays the role in Tolkien’s legendarium of transmitting light from the heavenly places. It is to Elbereth that the Elves sing their moving invocation: O Elbereth! Gilthoniel! We still remember, we who dwell In this far land beneath the trees, Thy Starlight on the Western seas. Tolkien would have been familiar from his childhood with one of the most popular Catholic hymns to the Virgin Mary, the tone and mood of which are markedly close to that of Tolkien’s to Elbereth (see L 213): Hail, Queen of Heaven, the ocean star, Guide of the wand’rer here below: Thrown on life’s surge, we claim thy care— Save us from peril and from woe. Mother of Christ, star of the sea, Pray for the wanderer, pray for me. Starlight on the sea: for Tolkien a particularly evocative combination, as we have seen. Light shining in darkness, representing the life, grace, and creative action of God, is the heart of Tolkien’s writing.

life dies sunwards full of faith; but see! no sooner dead, than death whirls round the corpse, and it heads some other way. Oh, thou dark Hindoo half of nature, who of drowned bones hast builded thy separate throne somewhere in the heart of these unverdured seas; thou art an infidel, thou queen, and too truly speakest to me in the wide-slaughtering Typhoon, and the hushed burial of its after calm. Nor has this thy whale sunwards turned his dying head, and then gone round again, without a lesson to me. Oh, trebly hooped and welded hip of power! Oh, high aspiring, rainbowed jet!—that one strivest, this one jettest all in vain! In vain, oh whale, dost thou seek intercedings with yon all-quickening sun, that only calls forth life, but gives it not again. Yet dost thou, darker half, rock me with a prouder, if a darker faith. All thy unnamable imminglings, float beneath me here; I am buoyed by breaths of once living things, exhaled as air, but water now. Then hail, for ever hail, O sea, in whose eternal tossings the wild fowl finds his only rest. Born of earth, yet suckled by the sea; though hill and valley mothered me, ye billows are my foster-brothers!

Efficacious Novena to the Sacred Heart of Jesus   Recited daily by Padre Pio for those who requested his prayer. The prayer was written by St. Margaret Mary Alacoque.   I. O my Jesus, you have said: "Truly I say to you, ask and you will receive, seek and you will find, knock and it will be opened to you." Behold I knock, I seek and ask for the grace of...... (here name your request) Our Father....Hail Mary....Glory Be to the Father....Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in you.     II. O my Jesus, you have said: "Truly I say to you, if you ask anything of the Father in my name, he will give it to you." Behold, in your name, I ask the Father for the grace of.......(here name your request) Our Father...Hail Mary....Glory Be To the Father....Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in you.   III. O my Jesus, you have said: "Truly I say to you, heaven and earth will pass away but my words will not pass away." Encouraged by your infallible words I now ask for the grace of.....(here name your request) Our Father....Hail Mary....Glory Be to the Father...Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in you.   O Sacred Heart of Jesus, for whom it is impossible not to have compassion on the afflicted, have pity on us miserable sinners and grant us the grace which we ask of you, through the Sorrowful and Immaculate Heart of Mary, your tender Mother and ours. Say the Hail, Holy Queen and add: St. Joseph, foster father of Jesus, pray for us.

One can take the ape out of the jungle, but not the jungle out of the ape. This also applies to us, bipedal apes. Ever since our ancestors swung from tree to tree, life in small groups has been an obsession of ours. We can’t get enough of politicians thumping their chests on television, soap opera stars who swing from tryst to tryst, and reality shows about who’s in and who’s out. It would be easy to make fun of all this primate behavior if not for the fact that our fellow simians take the pursuit of power and sex just as seriously as we do. We share more with them than power and sex, though. Fellow-feeling and empathy are equally important, but they’re rarely mentioned as part of our biological heritage. We would much rather blame nature for what we don’t like in ourselves than credit it for what we do like. As Katharine Hepburn famously put it in The African Queen, ”Nature, Mr. Allnut, is what we are put in this world to rise above.” This opinion is still very much with us. Of the millions of pages written over the centuries about human nature, none are as bleak as those of the last three decades, and none as wrong. We hear that we have selfish genes, that human goodness is a sham, and that we act morally only to impress others. But if all that people care about is their own good, why does a day-old baby cry when it hears another baby cry? This is how empathy starts. Not very sophisticated perhaps, but we can be sure that a newborn doesn’t try to impress. We are born with impulses that draw us to others and that later in life make us care about them. The possibility that empathy is part of our primate heritage ought to make us happy, but we’re not in the habit of embracing our nature. When people commit genocide, we call them ”animals”. But when they give to the poor, we praise them for being ”humane”. We like to claim the latter behavior for ourselves. It wasn’t until an ape saved a member of our own species that there was a public awakening to the possibility of nonhuman humaneness. This happened on August 16, 1996, when an eight-year-old female gorilla named Binti Jua helped a three-year-old boy who had fallen eighteen feet into the primate exhibit at Chicago’s Brookfield Zoo. Reacting immediately, Binti scooped up the boy and carried him to safety. She sat down on a log in a stream, cradling the boy in her lap, giving him a few gentle back pats before taking him to the waiting zoo staff. This simple act of sympathy, captured on video and shown around the world, touched many hearts, and Binti was hailed as a heroine. It was the first time in U.S. history that an ape figured in the speeches of leading politicians, who held her up as a model of compassion. That Binti’s behavior caused such surprise among humans says a lot about the way animals are depicted in the media. She really did nothing unusual, or at least nothing an ape wouldn’t do for any juvenile of her own species. While recent nature documentaries focus on ferocious beasts (or the macho men who wrestle them to the ground), I think it’s vital to convey the true breadth and depth of our connection with nature. This book explores the fascinating and frightening parallels between primate behavior and our own, with equal regard for the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Magellan’s sudden identification of millions of land forms fomented a crisis in nomenclature. The International Astronomical Union responded with an all-female naming scheme that evoked a goddess or giantess from every heritage and era, along with heroines real or invented. Thus the Venusian highlands, the counterparts to Earth’s continents, took the names of love goddesses — Aphrodite Terra, Ishtar Terra, Lada Terra, with hundreds of their hills and dales christened for fertility goddesses and sea goddesses. Large craters commemorate notable women (including American astronomer Maria Mitchell, who photographed the 1882 transit of Venus from the Vassar College Observatory), while small craters bear common first names for girls. Venus’s scarps hail seven goddesses of the hearth, small hills the goddesses of the sea, ridges the goddesses of the sky, and so on across low plains named from myth and legend for the likes of Helen and Guinevere, down canyons called after Moon goddesses and huntresses.

All hail the true Queens,” Darius growled in a low and powerful voice which rang with a clap of magic that seemed to break the spell that had fallen over everyone who was still staring at us in awe.

All hail the queen,

I hail thee, Manon Crochan, Queen of Witches.

Hail Bryce, Queen of the Midgardian Fae.

What court did your ancestors hail from?” “I don’t know. The Fae ancestor whose powers I bear, Theia—she was Starborn. Like me.” “That term means nothing here.” Nesta pulled Bryce to her feet with ease. “But Amren told me what you said of Theia, the queen who went to your world from ours.” Bryce brushed the dust and rock off her back, her ass. Her ego. “My ancestor, yes.” “Theia was High Queen of these lands. Before she left,” Nesta said. “She was?” A powerful ruler here as well as in Midgard. Her ancestor had been High Queen. Bryce carried not only Theia’s starlight—she carried her royal ties to this world. Which could land her in some major hot water with these people, if they felt threatened by Bryce’s lineage—if they believed she might have some sort of claim to their throne.

But it was Sathia who approached Bryce. Who knelt at her feet, bowing her head, and declared, “Hail Bryce, Queen of the Midgardian Fae.

Let us don our victory hats and return to our stronghold to inform our rulers of the Great Coming!” Geraldine cried. “All hail the True Queens!

She herself replied to one of her oldest friends who had written asking how to address her: “I really don’t know! It might be anything—you might try ‘All Hail Duchess,’ that is an Alice in Wonderland sort of Duchess, or just ‘Greetings’ or ‘What Ho, Duchess’ or ‘Say, Dutch’—in fact you can please yourself.”28

Rise,” Darrow said, “Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen.” She swallowed a sob. And slowly, her breathing steady despite the heartbeat that threatened to leap out of her chest, Aelin rose. Darrow’s grey eyes were bright. “Long may she reign.” And as Aelin turned, the call went up through the hall, echoing off the ancient stones and into the gathered city beyond the castle. “Hail, Aelin! Queen of Terrasen!” The sound of it from Rowan’s lips, from Aedion’s, threatened to send her to her knees, but Aelin smiled. Kept her chin high and smiled.

Vard’s head snapped around and he looked at my mother with a whole lot more interest than he had initially. “The new queen has The Sight?” he asked curiously, though I could tell how threatened he and the rest of his group of less talented Seers felt about that. “She does indeed,” Hail purred, drawing his new bride closer to his side. “She can see better than anyone I’ve ever known.” The Seers broke into muttered conversation over that, their attention fixed on the new queen who answered their questions politely with a soft smile on her face. Merissa straightened suddenly, her hand snapping out to catch an apple which had been aimed at Hail’s face and Lionel barked a laugh, clapping loudly as everyone whirled to look at him. “My King, I think you truly have found a gem to treasure here,” he cried, looking like he was honest to shit happy, though I knew enough of him after spending months trapped in his company to recognise that dangerous, conniving look in his eyes. “I aimed the fruit at you while she was distracted and yet she still saw it coming! She is a true Seer indeed and her love for you must be fierce for her to sense threats against you so easily.

I never thought I’d taste freedom again,” Nova gasped. “The True Queens really have ascended,” she breathed, looking between the two of us in astonishment. “All hail the name of Vega. Let that cowardly Dragon quake in his boots before you.

For Obatalá Obatalá okunrin ati obínrin ni laye eleda ni gbogbo na dara dara ati buruku oba ati ayaba, afin oga ni na bala ati gbogbo na shishe babá alaye alabo mi ati mi gbogbo na ejun, dara dara babá wa afin alano. Jekua babá mi, adupe. Great male and female deity, world creator of all good, health, and evil, king and queen, albino owner of purity and of all justice, father who shields, grand protector of all the world, my protector and of all good and healthy things, our merciful albino father, hail, my father; thank you. For

What was stolen has been restored; what was lost has come home again. I hail thee, Manon Crochan, Queen of Witches.

Then the ancient witch knelt in the snow. “What was stolen has been restored; what was lost has come home again. I hail thee, Manon Crochan, Queen of Witches.

Bryce said, “Why did you feel the need to attack? To pretend the Reapers were messengers of—the Prince of the Pit.” She clicked her tongue. “I thought we were friends.” “Death has no friends,” the Under-King said, eerily calm. “I did not send any Reapers to attack you. But I do not tolerate those who falsely accuse me in my realm.” “And we’re supposed to take you at your word that you’re innocent?” Bryce pushed. “Do you call me a liar, Bryce Quinlan?” Bryce said, cool and calm as a queen, “You mean to tell me that there are Reapers who can simply defect and serve Hel?” “From whence do you think the Reapers first came? Who first ruled them, ruled the vampyrs? The Reapers chose Midgard. But I am not surprised some have changed their minds.” Bryce demanded, “And you don’t care if Hel steps into your territory?” “Who said they were my Reapers to begin with? There are none unaccounted for here. There are many other necropolises they might hail from.” And other half-life rulers they answered to. “Reapers don’t travel far beyond their realms,” Hunt managed to say. “A comforting lie for mortals.” The Under-King smiled faintly.

out on the grass. The four girls sat around Lise’s picnic basket. They unpacked their lunch. The basket was full of sandwiches and delicious tarts. For dessert, Anna had brought flangendorfers. “So, Anna, what’s it like to live in the castle?” Sigrid asked. She lived on a dairy farm. Every morning she got up early and milked the cows. Then she helped her

All hail our King and Queen. May they reign forever.

3. “U.N.I.T.Y.” by Queen Latifah (1993) All hail the queen! Queen Latifah is one of my personal heroes. As a kid, it was incredible to see a Black woman not only holding her own in hip-hop but doing it her way. “U.N.I.T.Y.” is one of the most empowering songs that exists in hip-hop. Of course, it’s an anthem for Bri.

In 74 AC, King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne were blessed again by the gods when Prince Aemon’s wife, the Lady Jocelyn, presented them with their first grandchild. Princess Rhaenys was born on the seventh day of the seventh moon of the year, which the septons judged to be highly auspicious. Large and fierce, she had the black hair of her Baratheon mother and the pale violet eyes of her Targaryen father. As the firstborn child of the Prince of Dragonstone, many hailed her as next in line for the Iron Throne after her father. When Queen Alysanne held her in her arms for the first time, she was heard to call the little girl “our queen to be.

But the phrase that the Swiss professors used with Scalia and the other native speakers of English who hailed from the United States, Canada, and Australia—les pays anglo-saxes, or the Anglo-Saxon countries—“deeply offended” the paisan from Queens.

off

Respect your captor, Caecelia. Learn to love your position, Caecelia. Pledge loyalty to Sparta, Caecelia. All hail Queen Caecelia of Sparta!

Darrow’s gray eyes were bright. “Long may she reign.” And as Aelin turned, the call went up through the hall, echoing off the ancient stones and into the gathered city beyond the castle. “Hail, Aelin! Queen of Terrasen!

Do you know how to make a kuku?" Kuku, a fluffy egg dish with herbs, had numerous varieties. "What kind?" His mouth tipped up in the corner. "You choose." Roxannah had learned her first kuku from her grandparents' head cook, a man who hailed from a populous village near the Caspian Sea. He had taught her this recipe, a specialty of his region. Quietly, she collected the ingredients she needed: dill, cilantro, parsley, a bit of fenugreek, barberries, onions, garlic, and chives. Sisy showed her where to find the spices. When Roxannah reached for the eggs, the dairy assistant threw her a filthy look. But he could do nothing to stop her since she was obeying Cook's orders. The trick to making a good kuku lay in achieving the right balance of herbs and eggs. Sautéing the onions and garlic until golden, she set them aside. In the same pan, she added a touch more butter and fried a large handful of barberries, sweetened with a spoon of honey. Their tangy flavor and ruby-red color would create the perfect topping for the dish.