Protector Of The Weak Quotes

The world is a goddamned evil place, the strong prey on the weak, the rich on the poor; I’ve given up hope that there is a God that will save us all. How am I supposed to believe that there’s a heaven and a hell when all I see now is hell.

Weakness may excite tenderness, and gratify the arrogant pride of man; but the lordly caresses of a protector will not gratify a noble mind that pants for, and deserves to be respected. Fondness is a poor substitute for friendship.

Do we say, Oh now I'm going to be nice to the weak and the small? Or do we do as we learned when we were pages?

We are Knights of the Trinity, Angels of the Third Realm of Heaven Warriors of The Almighty Defenders of Righteousness, Truth. And Justice Protectors of the Weak and Downtrodden Guardians of the realms of men. We pledge our spirits, our swords, and our shields in service, Not for glory, not for pride, but for the honor to serve the Most-High May the forces of Darkness tremble in our wake and die at our hands! We are the Chosen Twelve, the Blessed, the Mighty War-riors of the Everlasting Order Hazah! Hazah! Hazah!

I am not weak," Loki said. "I am not your villain, and I am not your fool. I am a protector of my homeland." He thrust his hand in the air. "For Asgard!

It's not weakness to require help, or a protector.

Sir, people never wanted me to make it to squire. They won't like it any better if I become a knight. I doubt I'll ever get to command a force larger than, well, just me.' Raoul shook his head. 'You're wrong.' As she started to protest, he raised a hand. 'Hear me out. I have some idea of what you've had to bear to get this far, and it won't get easier. But there are larger issues than your fitness for knighthood, issues that involve lives and livelihoods. Attend,' he said, so much like Yayin, one of her Mithran teachers, that Kel had to smile. 'At our level, there are four kids of warrior,' he told Kel. He raised a fist and held up one large finger. 'Heroes, like Alanna the Lioness. Warriors who find dark places and fight in them alone. This is wonderful, but we live in the real world. There aren't many places without any hope or light.' He raised a second finger. 'We have knights- plain, everyday knights, like your brothers. They patrol their borders and protect their tenants, or they go into troubled areas at the king's command and sort them out. They fight in battles, usually against other knights. A hero will work like an everyday knight for a time- it's expected. And most knights must be clever enough to manage alone.' Kel nodded. 'We have soldiers,' Raoul continued, raising a third finger. 'Those warriors, including knights, who can manage so long as they're told what to do. These are more common, thank Mithros, and you'll find them in charge of companies in the army, under the eye of a general. Without people who can take orders, we'd be in real trouble. 'Commanders.' He raised his little finger. 'Good ones, people with a knack for it, like, say, the queen, or Buri, or young Dom, they're as rare as heroes. Commanders have an eye not just for what they do, but for what those around them do. Commanders size up people's strengths and weaknesses. They know where someone will shine and where they will collapse. Other warriors will obey a true commander because they can tell that the commander knows what he- or she- is doing.' Raoul picked up a quill and toyed with it. 'You've shown flashes of being a commander. I've seen it. So has Qasim, your friend Neal, even Wyldon, though it would be like pulling teeth to get him to admit it. My job is to see if you will do more than flash, with the right training. The realm needs commanders. Tortall is big. We have too many still-untamed pockets, too curse many hideyholes for rogues, and plenty of hungry enemies to nibble at our borders and our seafaring trade. If you have what it takes, the Crown will use you. We're too desperate for good commanders to let one slip away, even a female one. Now, finish that'- he pointed to the slate- 'and you can stop for tonight.

Do not trouble me with such weak excuses

You think that you’re a bad thing, but you’re not. You protect the rest of us from bad things. You’re badass and lethal and scary, and you’re as far from weak as you can get. You’re a protector, Gabe. My protector.

But I am a knight of the Round Table," he protested, weakly. "I am a protector of the realm, a slayer of evil, I defeat all those who raise their swords in opposition to Arthur, King of all Britain." "Trust me, kid, women prefer a man who can cook.

These passages show that the great and bitter needs of the helpless were reaching up to heaven and changing the god of the strong into the protector of the weak.

The defender of the innocent, protector of the weak. I will bring hope to the lost, give my life for the helpless... With truth as my shield... And Courage as my sword, I shall stand against the darkness.

Marrok, in all these years, you've grown to be like a grandson to me. I believe you can do this. Have faith in your wolf, son. Where you're weak, he's strong. It's his mate, too, and I can guarantee he won't let her go without a fight.

The general is the protector of the state. If this protection is all-embracing, the state will surely be strong; if defective, the state will certainly be weak. A sovereign who obtains the right person prospers. One who fails to do so will be ruined.

I was her protector. That she was flighty and irresponsible and frivolous. That it was my job to protect her. That I was the strong one, counterbalancing her weakness, her whimsy. But I was wrong. I wasn’t the strong one, she was. Because this is what it feels like—to take a risk, to step out of line, to make decisions not based on fact but on feeling. And it hurts. It feels like a tornado raging inside my soul. It feels like I may not survive it.

Weak people always looked for those to blame

He's always been my weakness, my strength, my protector, and my destroyer. Pretty powerful for one person.

Maybe the kids will always be stronger. It’s us—the impostors masquerading as protectors—who are unimaginably weak. For

They’re two tiny, weak, strong, fearless women side by side, facing me, their self-appointed protector. They’re ready to defend themselves against me—me—and it hurts like a motherfucker!

Miss Tarabotti had the transitory idea that he might be suitable husband material after all. And then realized that a lifelong alliance with a man of such weak character would certainly turn her into a veritable tyrant.

As for law and religion, which also have preached this principle, they have simply filched it to cloak their own wares, their injunctions for the benefit of the conqueror, the exploiter, the priest. Without this principle of solidarity, the justice of which is so generally recognized, how could they have laid hold on men's minds? Each of them covered themselves with it as with a garment; like authority which made good its position by posing as the protector of the weak against the strong. By flinging overboard law, religion and authority, mankind can regain possession of the moral principle which has been taken from them. Regain that they may criticize it, and purge it from the adulterations wherewith priest, judge and ruler have poisoned it and are poisoning it yet. Besides this principle of treating others as one wishes to be treated oneself, what is it but the very same principle as equality, the fundamental principle of anarchism? And how can any one manage to believe himself an anarchist unless he practices it? We do not wish to be ruled. And by this very fact, do we not declare that we ourselves wish to rule nobody? We do not wish to be deceived, we wish always to be told nothing but the truth. And by this very fact, do we not de- clare that we ourselves do not wish to deceive anybody, that we promise to always tell the truth, nothing but the truth, the whole truth? We do not wish to have the fruits of our labor stolen from us. And by that very fact, do we not declare that we respect the fruits of others' labor?

And what ails you that you fight not in the way of God, and for the weak and oppressed—men, women, and children—who cry out, “Our Lord! Bring us forth from this town whose people are oppressors, and appoint for us from Thee a protector, and appoint for us from Thee a helper.

I shall never forget, in that moment, how instantly conscious I became of my manhood. The primitive deeps of my nature stirred. I felt myself masculine, the protector of the weak, the fighting male. And, best of all, I felt myself the protector of my loved one. She leaned against me, so light and lily-frail, and as her trembling eased away it seemed as though I became aware of prodigious strength. I felt myself a match for the most ferocious bull in the herd, and I know, had such a bull charged upon me, that I should have met it unflinchingly and quite coolly, and I know that I should have killed it.

She stared at him, at his face. Simply stared as the scales fell from her eyes. "Oh, my God," she whispered, the exclamation so quiet not even he would hear. She suddenly saw-saw it all-all that she'd simply taken for granted. Men like him protected those they loved, selflessly, unswervingly, even unto death. The realization rocked her. Pieces of the jigsaw of her understanding of him fell into place. He was hanging to consciousness by a thread. She had to be sure-and his shields, his defenses were at their weakest now. Looking down at her hands, pressed over the nearly saturated pad, she hunted for the words, the right tone. Softly said, "My death, even my serious injury, would have freed you from any obligation to marry me. Society would have accepted that outcome, too." He shifted, clearly in pain. She sucked in a breath-feeling his pain as her own-then he clamped the long fingers of his right hand about her wrist, held tight. So tight she felt he was using her as an anchor to consciousness, to the world. His tone, when he spoke, was harsh. "Oh, yes-after I'd expended so much effort keeping you safe all these years, safe even from me, I was suddenly going to stand by and let you be gored by some mangy bull." He snorted, soft, low. Weakly. He drew in a slow, shallow breath, lips thin with pain, but determined, went on, "You think I'd let you get injured when finally after all these long years I at last understand that the reason you've always made me itch is because you are the only woman I actually want to marry? And you think I would stand back and let you be harmed?" A peevish frown crossed his face. "I ask you, is that likely? Is it even vaguely rational?" He went on, his words increasingly slurred, his tongue tripping over some, his voice fading. She listened, strained to catch every word as he slid into semi delirium, into rambling, disjointed sentences that she drank in, held to her heart. He gave her dreams back to her, reshaped and refined. "Not French Imperial-good, sound, English oak. You can use whatever colors you like, but no gilt-I forbid it." Eventually he ventured further than she had. "And I want at least three children-not just an heir and a spare. At least three-if you're agreeable. We'll have to have two boys, of course-my evil ugly sisters will found us to make good on that. But thereafter...as many girls as you like...as long as they look like you. Or perhaps Cordelia-she's the handsomer of the two uglies." He loved his sisters, his evil ugly sisters. Heather listened with tears in her eyes as his mind drifted and his voice gradually faded, weakened. She'd finally got her declaration, not in anything like the words she'd expected, but in a stronger, impossible-to-doubt exposition. He'd been her protector, unswerving, unflinching, always there; from a man like him, focused on a lady like her, such actions were tantamount to a declaration from the rooftops. The love she'd wanted him to admit to had been there all along, demonstrated daily right before her eyes, but she hadn't seen. Hadn't seen because she'd been focusing elsewhere, and because, conditioned as she was to resisting the same style of possessive protectiveness from her brothers, from her cousins, she hadn't appreciated his, hadn't realized that that quality had to be an expression of his feelings for her. Until now. Until now that he'd all but given his life for hers. He loved her-he'd always loved her. She saw that now, looking back down the years. He'd loved her from the time she'd fallen in love with him-the instant they'd laid eyes on each other at Michael and Caro's wedding in Hampshire four years ago. He'd held aloof, held away-held her at bay, too-believing, wrongly, that he wasn't an appropriate husband for her. In that, he'd been wrong, too. She saw it all. And as the tears overflowed and tracked down her cheeks, she knew to her soul how right he was for her. Knew, embraced, and rejoiced.

Kosson threw me a hurt look, for a moment a child with his enthusiasm dashed. “Yes, but see who we have here!” We edged around the invisible glass surrounding the man. That was how it felt. Slick glass, cold to touch, the edge of time where hours and minutes die to nothing. “See?” Kosson pointed to a white rectangle attached to the man’s chest, to the left. It looked to be a piece of plasteek and bore the legend “CUSTODIAN” in black. “That means he’s the guardian, the protector. The guard archivists have books that tell the meanings of ancient words.” “He looks soft to me.” Weak, white, fear in his eyes. “The

The Social Democrats know how to create the impression that they alone are the protectors of peace. In this way, acting very circumspectly but never losing sight of their ultimate goal, they conquer one position after another-now by methods of quiet intimidation and now by sheer daylight robbery. They employ these tactics at those moments when the public attention is turned towards other matters, or when the public considers an incident too trivial to raise a fuss about and thus provoke the anger of a vicious opponent... These tactics are based on an accurate estimation of human weaknesses; they will lead to success, with almost mathematical certainty, unless the other side also learns how to fight poison gas with poison gas.

The Social Democrats know how to create the impression that they alone are the protectors of peace. In this way, acting very circumspectly but never losing sight of their ultimate goal, they conquer one position after another-now by methods of quiet intimidation and now by sheer daylight robbery. They employ these tactics at those moments when the public attention is turned towards other matters, or when the public considers an incident too trivial to raise a fuss about and thus provoke the anger of a vicious opponent... These tactics are based on an accurate estimation of human weaknesses; they will lead to success, with almost mathematical certainty, unless the other side also learns how to fight poison gas with poison gas... The weaker natures must be told that this is a case of 'to be or not to be.

One of the reasons for this cataclysmic change of destinies was the inherent weakness of a decaying agricultural empire of the Mughals which after more than two hundred years of rule over vast areas of India, was at its terminal stage and needed a small push to crumble like a house of cards.That push was given by six East India Companies of different European countries which had extracted rights to trade with India from the Mughals but transformed themselves as the arbiters and protectors of several Indian states. In this process they not only became rich but also militarily strong because in the twilight years of the Mughal empire, deteriorating security environment necessitated to arm themselves to protect their economic interests. Because of their inherent superiority as representatives of rising industrial powers, they had access to modern techniques and technology of warfare, which turned out to be the decisive factor in capturing vast territories in India.

A YEARNING HEART My heart is hurting right now, I don't know what to do, Father say something to me, I don't know what to do, No one knows how I feel right now, Only you father knows how I feel, I need you right now More than yesterday, I need you to embrace me And say, it's going to be okay my child. You are the defender of the weak, You are my protector and my helper. I need you right now To uphold me with your right Hand of righteousness, You promised not to leave me Nor forsake me, I need you right now, Do not hide your face from me. I'm longing for your everlasting love And your everlasting kindness, Thank you Father God!!!

Jesus had chosen to lay aside the trappings of power that were His right and come humble and approachable, a servant. Man saw it as weakness; Jesus did it from strength. He had arrived with nothing to prove but His Father’s love.

He knew all of my weaknesses, and he knew that the things he’d done for me had bought and paid for my absolute, unquestioning loyalty…until now. Ronan’s

I’ve made mistakes, been broken by evil, and wished fervently for my life to be taken from me. The past will never change. But my imperfect past brought me here, and it’s a remarkable place to be. All I’ve suffered, all you have suffered, Kathryn, has not made us weak. It has made us wise.

Surprisingly, the most powerful and destructive perpetrator of systemic aggression is the State itself. To mask this ugly truth, the State has cleverly disguised itself as the protector of the weak, poor, indigent, and disenfranchised. Moreover, it claims to be a necessary, if not sufficient, institution to carry out this purported role. To

Finding Comfort Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is the Father who is full of mercy and all comfort. He comforts us every time we have trouble, so when others have trouble, we can comfort them with the same comfort God gives us. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NCV As Christians, we can be assured of this fact: Whether we find ourselves on the pinnacle of the mountain or in the darkest depths of the valley, God is there. If you have been touched by the transforming love of Jesus, then you have every reason to live courageously. After all, Christ has already won the ultimate battle—and He won it for you—on the cross at Calvary. Still, even if you are a dedicated Christian, you may find yourself discouraged by the inevitable disappointments and tragedies that occur in the lives of believers and non-believers alike. The next time you find your courage tested to the limit, lean upon God’s promises. Trust His Son. Remember that God is always near and that He is your protector and your deliverer. When you are worried, anxious, or afraid, call upon Him and accept the touch of His comforting hand. Remember that God rules both mountaintops and valleys—with limitless wisdom and love—now and forever. What a comfort to know that God is present there in your life, available to meet every situation with you, that you are never left to face any problem alone. Vonette Bright Put your hand into the hand of God. He gives the calmness and serenity of heart and soul. Mrs. Charles E. Cowman O Lord, thank You that Your side of the embroidery of our life is always perfect. That is such a comfort when our side is sometimes so mixed up. Corrie ten Boom When faced with adversity the Christian woman comforts herself with the knowledge that all of life’s events are in the hands of God. Vonette Bright Don’t be overwhelmed. Take it one day and one prayer at a time. Stormie Omartian Obedience invites Christ to show His incomparable strength in our mortal weakness. Beth Moore If God has you in the palm of His hand and your real life is secure in Him, then you can venture forth—into the

His words hung between us for the longest time before he whispered, “Someone you could lean on when you were tired of standing on your own.” Was he fucking serious? Did he really think I saw him as weak? Or unworthy in any sense of the word? “I

Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the winds. And whose breath gives life to all the world. Hear me! I am small and weak. I need your strength and wisdom. Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes Ever hold the red and purple sunset. Make my hands respect the things you have made. My ears sharp to hear your voice. Make me wise so that I may understand The things you might teach me. Let me learn the lessons you have hidden In every leaf and rock. I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother. But to fight my greatest enemy, myself. Make me always ready to come to you With clear hands and straight eyes. So when life fades, as the fading sunset. My spirit may come to you without shame.

but you are a God of the afflicted. You are a helper of the minorities, a helper of the weak, a protector of the forsaken, a savior of those who are without hope. 12 Yes, yes, God of my father, and God of the inheritance of Israel, Lord of the heavens and of the earth. Creator of the waters, King of every creature, hear my prayer.

Bilba nodded and headed to Syrath, climbing onto his back with Fili behind her. They lifted off, the ground falling away behind them and she leaned against Fili, mentally picturing the final shards of the shell she'd built around herself falling away below her. She was neither the naïve girl she'd been before her mother's death or the well of never-ending hate she'd been after. She was Bilba, the daughter of Belladonna Took and Dwalin, son of Fundin. She was Orcrist, Orc Cleaver, protector of the weak and defenseless. She was the rider of Syrath, the partner and One of Fili, son of Vili, Crown Prince of Erebor. She was her father's daughter and her mother's light. She was more than what the orcs had tried to make her, more than what she'd made herself and more than the false foundations upon which she'd built her life. She would rebuild again and, this time, it wouldn't be on the false hope of a fictional father she'd created in her mind and it wouldn't be on the twisted lie given to her by hate. It would be based on truth, on what Fili and Syrath saw in her, what she was just starting to see in herself and what she saw when she looked at her father. It would be based on allowing people in, not shutting them out. And, this time, her foundation would be unshakable.

Commanders have an eye not just for what they do, but for what those around them do. Commanders size up people's strengths and weaknesses. They know where someone will shine and where they will collapse. Other warriors will obey a true commander because they can tell that the commander knows what he- or she- is doing.

mothers are not allowed to be human, are we? We're not allowed to be tired. We're not allowed to be weak. We're not allowed to make mistakes.

IN A WORLD WHERE THE WEAK ARE PREYED UPON... crime goes unpunished and evil runs rampant in the streets, who will stand up to chaos and fight for justice? There is only one: an outlaw biker with dead set principles and dangerous methods that get the job done. Asking nothing in return, he sets out for war in the name of the people, regardless of creed or colour. These are the stories of an outlaw about to douse the criminal world in gasoline and strike the match. He's a one man wrecking ball...today's Robin Hood, protector of the people.

but alas, i fear this will never be the case, as people smile to my face, and stab me in the back with a warm embrace, only to leave this bitter taste. mr. moon. the moon shines bright, at night. he shows his mighty might, his light. he hides during the day, they say. the sun wants to come out to play, she may. he is the protector of the weak, at his peak. in times of need they will always seek,

Hope is for the hopeless... Wishing is for the weak... Begging is for the broken... One either makes things happen or they don't... Peace... Mark Damn/Mark Zamora 2024