League Of Gentleman Quotes

He smiled. “Would it help if I told you I’m a gentleman?” “No.” She replied and lifted her chin slightly. “How about my…lineage?” “I’m American. We don’t do lineage.

Syn may be too much of a gentleman to hit you, but I’m not. I’m not only ashamed to call you human, I’m completely disgusted that we share the same gender. You want to know the truth? The only filth in this room is you, and you’re the one who doesn’t deserve to breathe our air. Decent’s got nothing to do with birthright. It’s all about actions, and trust me, you’re the lowest form I’ve ever met and I’ve taken in the worst scum imaginable. But I’d rather sit at the table with them than you any day. (Shahara to Mara)

I want to roll up on a bed and read a romantic novel and not think.

I think that I . . . I matter. A woman matters, married or not, children or no children. I matter, just as I am, right now. I’m a whole human being.

If I were the only person in the world,” she said to the ceiling, “how would I even know I was a woman? Who would tell me? Who would make me? I would just be me. Why can’t I just be me?” The earl was quiet for a moment. “An interesting hypothesis,” he then allowed. “But no one is ever just themselves.

Aidan and Pesh are not in the same league of men. I love Aidan, but he’s not necessarily a gentleman. Pesh is.” “Yeah, but you’re a lady.” Maybe in the street, but she’s one hell of a freak in the bedroom,” Aidan said behind them.

Do you know how a tree changes shape to grow around an obstruction ?' she asked, her voice hollow. 'How it develops an unnatural bent, or ugly bulges ?' 'I have seen these trees, yes.' 'I'm wondering how misshapen I am,' she whispered. 'I wonder how bent out of shape I am from these attempts to exist around some fear, instead of just growing, straight and up, as I should have.

Support your sisters, regardless of their position in life, and tell them to use their rights—to receive an education, to keep their earnings, to find a husband who treats them as an equal, or to remain single.

I object to this notion that it would be my highest purpose, or my only purpose. Because I don’t think it is. I think that I . . . I matter. A woman matters, married or not, children or no children. I matter, just as I am, right now. I’m a whole human being.

It began with her thoughts on pregnancy, how the very same process in any other context would be the stuff of gothic novels: a woman of sound mind had to watch her belly swell to grotesque proportions, knowing that if all went well, it would merely end in pain. Meanwhile, everyone told the beleaguered woman to be overjoyed. There was a wrongness to this, and a passivity which confirmed for all the world to see that at their most uniquely female activity, women truly were just vessels, to be filled and stretched out by the needs of others.

There have been other incidents throughout my life that have caused me grief, and now I can't stop wondering how bad they truly were,' she said. 'In the carriage, I kept thinking, I kept thinking about how a part of me has wallowed in sorrow for years. How many decisions have I made because I was afraid of some dreadful thing that in the end would have never come to pass ? How often have I said yer or no to something just to avoid a certain type of pain ? I don't think I'm a coward; sometimes I even think I'm brave. But now I looke at myself and I think, who would I be, today, had I never been so needlessly afraid ? I'm... pathetically sensitive.

Jason, it’s a pleasure.” Instead of being in awe or “fangirling” over one of the best catchers in the country, my dad acts normal and doesn’t even mention the fact that Jason is a major league baseball player. “Going up north with my daughter?” “Yes, sir.” Jason sticks his hands in his back pockets and all I can focus on is the way his pecs press against the soft fabric of his shirt. “A-plus driver here in case you were wondering. No tickets, I enjoy a comfortable position of ten and two on the steering wheel, and I already established the rule in the car that it’s my playlist we’re listening to so there’s no fighting over music. Also, since it’s my off season, I took a siesta earlier today so I was fresh and alive for the drive tonight. I packed snacks, the tank is full, and there is water in reusable water bottles in the center console for each of us. Oh, and gum, in case I need something to chew if this one falls asleep.” He thumbs toward me. “I know how to use my fists if a bear comes near us, but I’m also not an idiot and know if it’s brown, hit the ground, if it’s black, fight that bastard back.” Oh my God, why is he so adorable? “I plan on teaching your daughter how to cook a proper meal this weekend, something she can make for you and your wife when you’re in town.” “Now this I like.” My dad chuckles. Chuckles. At Jason. I think I’m in an alternate universe. “I saw this great place that serves apparently the best pancakes in Illinois, so Sunday morning, I’d like to go there. I’d also like to hike, and when it comes to the sleeping arrangements, I was informed there are two bedrooms, and I plan on using one of them alone. No worries there.” Oh, I’m worried . . . that he plans on using the other one. “Well, looks like you’ve covered everything. This is a solid gentleman, Dottie.” I know. I really know. “Are you good? Am I allowed to leave now?” “I don’t know.” My dad scratches the side of his jaw. “Just from how charismatic this man is and his plans, I’m thinking I should take your place instead.” “I’m up for a bro weekend,” Jason says, his banter and decorum so easy. No wonder he’s loved so much. “Then I wouldn’t have to see the deep eye-roll your daughter gives me on a constant basis.” My dad leans in and says, “She gets that from me, but I will say this, I can’t possibly see myself eye-rolling with you. Do you have extra clothes packed for me?” “Do you mind sharing underwear with another man? Because I’m game.” My dad’s head falls back as he laughs. “I’ve never rubbed another man’s underwear on my junk, but never say never.” “Ohhh-kay, you two are done.” I reach up and press a kiss to my dad’s cheek. “We are leaving.” I take Jason by the arm and direct him back to the car. From over his shoulder, he mouths to my dad to call him, which my dad replies with a thumbs up. Ridiculous. Hilarious. When we’re saddled up in the car, I let out a long breath and shift my head to the side so I can look at him. Sincerely I say, “Sorry about that.” With the biggest smile on his face, his hand lands on my thigh. He gives it a good squeeze and says, “Don’t apologize, that was fucking awesome.

It is a shame that War should have flung all this aside in its greedy, base, opportunist march, and should turn instead to chemists in spectacles, and chauffeurs pulling the levers of aeroplanes or machine guns. But at Aldershot in 1895 none of these horrors had broken upon mankind. The Dragoon, the Lancer and above all, as we believed, the Hussar, still claimed their time-honoured place upon the battlefield. War, which used to be cruel and magnificent, has now become cruel and squalid. In fact it has been completely spoilt. It is all the fault of Democracy and Science. From the moment that either of these meddlers and muddlers was allowed to take part in actual fighting, the doom of War was sealed. Instead of a small number of well-trained professionals championing their country's cause with ancient weapons and a beautiful intricacy of archaic manoeuvre, sustained at every moment by the applause of their nation, we now have entire populations, including even women and children, pitted against one another in brutish mutual extermination, and only a set of blear-eyed clerks left to add up the butcher's bill. From the moment Democracy was admitted to, or rather forced itself upon the battlefield, War ceased to be a gentleman's game. To Hell with it! Hence the League of Nations.

As Rohan pulled the man upward, he glanced toward the threshold of a door that led into the club, where a club employee waited. “Dawson, escort Lord Latimer to his carriage out front. I’ll take Lord Selway.” “No need,” said the aristocrat who had just struggled to his feet, sounding winded. “I can walk to my own bloody carriage.” Tugging his clothes back into place over his bulky form, he threw the dark-haired man an anxious glance. “Rohan, I will have your word on something.” “Yes, my lord?” “If word of this gets out—if Lady Selway should discover that I was fighting over the favors of a fallen woman—my life won’t be worth a farthing.” Rohan replied with reassuring calm. “She’ll never know, my lord.” “She knows everything,” Selway said. “She’s in league with the devil. If you are ever questioned about this minor altercation…” “It was caused by a particularly vicious game of whist,” came the bland reply. “Yes. Yes. Good man.” Selway patted the younger man on the shoulder. “And to put a seal on your silence—” He reached a beefy hand inside his waistcoat and extracted a small bag. “No, my lord.” Rohan stepped back with a firm shake of his head, his shiny black hair flying with the movement and settling back into place. “There’s no price for my silence.” “Take it,” the aristocrat insisted. “I can’t, my lord.” “It’s yours.” The bag of coins was tossed to the ground, landing at Rohan’s feet with a metallic thud. “There. Whether you choose to leave it lying on the street or not is entirely your choice.” As the gentleman left, Rohan stared at the bag as if it were a dead rodent. “I don’t want it,” he muttered to no one in particular. “I’ll take it,” the prostitute said, sauntering over to him. She scooped up the bag and tested its heft in her palm. A taunting grin split her face. “Gor’, I’ve never seen a Gypsy what’s afraid o’ blunt.” “I’m not afraid of it,” Rohan said sourly. “I just don’t need it.

He ignored her apology. “Jayne? For once, could you drive like you didn’t just knock over a bank?” Jayne laughed. “Sorry, boss. Old habits die hard.” Kiara arched a brow. “She was a bank robber?” Jayne signaled her next turn. “I prefer the term ‘wealth redistributor.’ After all, a woman has needs, and I have more than most.” Kiara was aghast and impressed, and a little scared. “You really robbed banks?” Jayne winked at her in the rearview mirror. “My father was Egarious Toole. He had me on the job with him from the time I was four, and he taught me well.” Definitely impressed, Kiara grinned. Egarious Toole was one of the most renowned thieves ever born. But unlike most of his ilk, he was also known as the Gentleman Bandit because he was always so polite to those he robbed.

The beauty of the night unfolds. The starlight glistens bright. A maiden stunning, fierce and bold Stands radiant and bright. Before her stands no gentleman. He’s far beneath her league. Yet he’ll try to win her affections, As his heart’s filled with intrigue. And perhaps she’ll give him a chance to prove himself, at least. Here now they stand together, the beautiful maiden and the beast.

Alex staggered, reaching for the nearest object to steady himself—a naked marble gentleman. It rocked beneath his hands, thus proving Charlotte, Cecilia, Miss Plim, and probably most women of England correct as to the unreliability of men.

We will not do this again," he said. They took measure of each other's damp faces and turbulent eyes, and without any more words being exchanged they both knew that they would absolutely do this again.

I rolled my eyes. "You're such a pessimist." "Realist," he corrected. "A glass-half-empty sort of guy." "No, I'm a the-liquid-could-be-poisoned sort of guy.

You seem amused, Mr. Khoury--I assure you I took learning the language quite seriously." His smile widened. "I just wondered," he said, "is it very lonely, being so clever?

Desmond Coolwater is a well dressed, young prestigious ivy league gentleman and dabbling misogynist with a key to the metropolitan Denver nightlife as well as a job with a local, yet well known magazine as an entertainment / advertising executive. He knows how to make money marketing and beguiling women, but he is about take losses on a level that he’s not accustomed to and in order to overcome losing his job, nearly losing his father and the possibility for love with the right woman he will have to reinvent cool.

Before she could rethink her actions, she slugged Mara as hard as she could in her perfect face. And even that was a light punishment for everything she’d done to Syn. Mara fell to the ground, sobbing. But she took no pity on her. “Syn may be too much of a gentleman to hit you, but I’m not. I’m not only ashamed to call you human, I’m completely disgusted that we share the same gender. You want to know the truth? The only filth in this room is you, and you’re the one who doesn’t deserve to breathe our air. Decent’s got nothing to do with birthright. It’s all about actions, and trust me, you’re the lowest form I’ve ever met and I’ve taken in the worst scum imaginable. But I’d rather sit at the table with them than you any day.” She

If only one could inoculate against stupid emotions as one could inoculate against a virus. Her brows pulled together. She scraped her nail over the scar, then pressed it slightly. Perhaps one could do that. Could she temper her erratic reactions to nerve-racking encounters with small, deliberate doses of exposure ? Because acting like a thunderstruck cow was costing her both her nerves and her dignity.

Watching him speak in the reception room had been devastating. She hadn't realized how much she fancied him until she had felt hidden hopes shatter inside her chest. Even numbed by Scotch, she still felt the sting of the cuts. She had misread him - he was nothing like the crushes of her past. He wasn't just layers of sunshine. He knew pain, and he articulated it. Behind his easy smile lay the vast landscape of a serious, inquisitive disposition, and an urge had gripped her to crawl into him to see... everything. She suspected he could follow into the black depths of the human mind but withdraw again before he became lost. A unicorn, light and dark, humorous yet sincere.

If I were the only person in the world,” she said to the ceiling, “how would I even know I was a woman? Who would tell me? Who would make me? I would just be me. Why can’t I just be me?

A woman in love does foolish things. She overlooks things. She explains things away. She likes to help, to make you love her more.

Let me be clear: if you found a love like that, I would expect you to marry. I would expect it for your own good. But as long as our finances permit it, I could never ask you to yoke yourself to a pale imitation of what your mother and I had. I don’t expect it of myself, either. Certainly not when we could be writing books instead.

And what was marriage, and the inevitable family life, other than an entrapment in a small, crowded space with erratic noise patterns? Even if all the laws of Britain changed in a woman’s favor, she would still be stuck inside her skin.

Leaders wage war over power,” Catriona said, unmoved. “The fairy tales they spin to rally the common soldier is of course quite another matter.

It’s the foundation of our Latin alphabet, too. If you turn our A upside down, you can still see the head of an ox with horns.

a woman of sound mind had to watch her belly swell to grotesque proportions, knowing that if all went well, it would merely end in pain. Meanwhile, everyone told the beleaguered woman to be overjoyed. There was a wrongness to this, and a passivity which confirmed for all the world to see that at their most uniquely female activity, women truly were just vessels, to be filled and stretched out by the needs of others.

a woman’s destiny was to react to surroundings, not to actively set her own path.

Reproduction isn’t what sets us apart from animals,” Catriona said. “Every wild creature multiplies and raises its young.

By the tum of the century thousands of Japanese had migrated to the Hawaiian Islands and the West Coast of America. They came for opportunity, for new starts. By 1908 there were sixty thousand Japanese in California but they encountered the same racism earlier migrants from China had faced. American resentment focused on the willingness of Japanese immigrants to work for lower wages. West Coast labor organizations organized Japanese and Korean Exclusion League. The idea of a “Yellow Peril” flood of Asians had resurfaced. In 1906 the San Francisco school board ordered all Orientals into a separate school. By a subsequent “Gentleman’s Agreement,” Japan agreed to curtail migration to the United States. But face had been lost for a proud and ancient people.

Another distinct recollection that RNK has about his student days in Law College was of communal politics that was practiced even at the level of students’ union. He recalled, ‘While serving as a member of the Executive Committee, I got my first taste of the manner in which communal politics led to aberrations and endless discussions involving people, who otherwise seemed perfectly rational and normal. One of the questions being considered by the Executive Committee at that time was whether the National Flag should be hoisted over the union building or not. This was strongly opposed by a representative of the Muslim hostel, who said that either there should be no flag or that if the INC flag was hoisted, so should the Muslim League flag side by side. All of us argued vehemently that while the Congress flag was the National Flag, representing all communities in India, the Muslim League could not claim that its flag represented anyone else other than its Muslim supporters.