Ruling With An Iron Fist Quotes

Brush teeth. Wash hair. Rule undead world with an iron fist.

It means she's amazing - and terrifying. Annwyl kills without question, rules with an iron fist, and has little patience for anyone. She can be cruel , she can be loving, she can be heartless, and she can care too much... I can't explain Annwyl

I like that color you turn. It makes you look like a tomato. A very dignified tomato. A tomato above all other tomatoes, one that rules his garden with a squishy iron fist.

Buckley followed the three of them into the kitchen and asked, as he had at least once a day, “Where’s Susie?” They were silent. Samuel looked at Lindsey. “Buckley,” my father called from the adjoining room, “come play Monopoly with me.” My brother had never been invited to play Monopoly. Everyone said he was too young, but this was the magic of Christmas. He rushed into the family room, and my father picked him up and sat him on his lap. “See this shoe?” my father said. Buckley nodded his head. “I want you to listen to everything I say about it, okay?” “Susie?” my brother asked, somehow connecting the two. “Yes, I’m going to tell you where Susie is.” I began to cry up in heaven. What else was there for me to do? “This shoe was the piece Susie played Monopoly with,” he said. “I play with the car or sometimes the wheelbarrow. Lindsey plays with the iron, and when you mother plays, she likes the cannon.” “Is that a dog?” “Yes, that’s a Scottie.” “Mine!” “Okay,” my father said. He was patient. He had found a way to explain it. He held his son in his lap, and as he spoke, he felt Buckley’s small body on his knee-the very human, very warm, very alive weight of it. It comforted him. “The Scottie will be your piece from now on. Which piece is Susie’s again?” “The shoe?” Buckley asked. “Right, and I’m the car, your sister’s the iron, and your mother is the cannon.” My brother concentrated very hard. “Now let’s put all the pieces on the board, okay? You go ahead and do it for me.” Buckley grabbed a fist of pieces and then another, until all the pieces lay between the Chance and Community Chest cards. “Let’s say the other pieces are our friends?” “Like Nate?” “Right, we’ll make your friend Nate the hat. And the board is the world. Now if I were to tell you that when I rolled the dice, one of the pieces would be taken away, what would that mean?” “They can’t play anymore?” “Right.” “Why?” Buckley asked. He looked up at my father; my father flinched. “Why?” my brother asked again. My father did not want to say “because life is unfair” or “because that’s how it is”. He wanted something neat, something that could explain death to a four-year-old He placed his hand on the small of Buckley’s back. “Susie is dead,” he said now, unable to make it fit in the rules of any game. “Do you know what that means?” Buckley reached over with his hand and covered the shoe. He looked up to see if his answer was right. My father nodded. "You won’t see Susie anymore, honey. None of us will.” My father cried. Buckley looked up into the eyes of our father and did not really understand. Buckley kept the shoe on his dresser, until one day it wasn't there anymore and no amount of looking for it could turn up.

Rich or poor, money rules with an iron fist.

May we forever be rulers, may our enemies tremble at our feet, may we never forget our great love that is the family. Which we will rule with an iron fist.” “May we be ruthless and have no regrets,” she added gripping onto my back. “May we take what we want, when we want it, with the world at our feet.

a monstrous, despotic, iron-fisted Frenchman who ruled his kitchen like President for Life Idi Amin, it was Chef Bernard.

You rule with an iron fist, Daddy Eaton.

I’ll bring her into my dark world where pain is the king over pleasure. He rules with an iron fist. And pleasure bends to the will of pain. I will show her my kingdom. She will be my queen.

Well, I can agree with that,” Zaat said.  “It is happening in other worlds and has happened throughout history, where the silent majority has fallen victim to radical groups ruling them with an iron fist.

Hello, sunshine,” said Jim’s voice. “I’m kind of busy.” I turned the file on its side and examined the doodle. Still nothing. “No shit,” he said. “Yeah. No gigs for me.” “That’s not why I’m calling.” I frowned at the phone and turned the file upside down. “I’m all ears.” “Someone wants to meet you,” he said. “Tell him to get in line,” I mumbled. The doodle almost looked like something. “I’m not joking.” “You never joke because you’re too damn busy proving that you’re a badass. Come on, black leather cloak? In mid-spring Atlanta? Besides I don’t have time to meet anybody.” Jim’s voice dropped low and he spoke each word very distinctly. “Think very carefully. Do you really want me to tell the man no?” Something about the way he said “the man” stopped me. I sat still and thought very hard about what kind of “man” would inspire Jim to use that voice. “What did I do to warrant the Beast Lord’s attention?” I asked dryly. “You’re sitting in the diviner’s office, aren’t you?” Touché. The Beast Lord was the Pack King, the lord of the shapechangers, and he ruled his brethren with an iron fist. Few ever saw him and the mention of his title was enough to make the loudest shapechanger shut up. In other words, he was precisely the kind of fellow my father and Greg had warned me to avoid. I ground my teeth, thinking of a way to weasel out of it.

Joseph Stalin: Joseph Stalin was the Soviet dictator who ruled the Soviet Union with an iron fist and was responsible for a number of the decisions made during the battle of Stalingrad. He was born on December 18, 1978 in Gori, Georgia. He was an only child who grew up in a poor family. His father was an alcoholic shoemaker who beat Joseph and his mother was a

The grand castle in Cartigo, the capital city of Cierith, stood high against the full moon and cast a heavy shadow across the city. The forest surrounding the city whispered eerily throughout the night, and the townspeople bolted their doors shut in fear of the soldiers who patrolled the streets looking for an excuse to arrest someone. The man responsible for this tyranny, on the other hand, sat comfortably on his stolen throne and ruled the land with an iron fist.

To this point, Sen. Rand Paul of Kentucky has been the Republican flavor of the year. Events from the IRS scandal to NSA revelations to the Obamacare train wreck have corroborated libertarian suspicions of federal power. And Paul has shown serious populist skills in cultivating those fears for his political benefit. For a while, he succeeded in a difficult maneuver: Accepting the inheritance of his father's movement while distancing himself from the loonier aspects of his father's ideology. But now Rand Paul has fallen spectacularly off the tightrope. It turns out that a senior member of his Senate staff, Jack Hunter, has a history of neo-Confederate radio rants. And Paul has come to the defense of his aide. . . . This would not be the first time that Paul has heard secessionist talk in his circle of confederates--I mean, associates. His father has attacked Lincoln for causing a "senseless" war and ruling with an "iron fist." Others allied with Paulism in various think tanks and websites have accused Lincoln of mass murder and treason. For Rand Paul to categorically repudiate such views and all who hold them would be to excommunicate a good portion of his father's movement. This disdain for Lincoln is not a quirk or a coincidence. Paulism involves more than the repeal of Obamacare. It is a form of libertarianism that categorically objects to 150 years of expanding federal power. . . . Not all libertarians, of course, view Appomattox as a temporary setback. A libertarian debate on the topic: "Lincoln: Hero or Despot?" would be two-sided, lively and well attended. But Paulism is more than the political expression of the Austrian school of economics. It is a wildly ambitious ideology in which Hunter's neo-Confederate views are not uncommon. What does this mean for the GOP? It is a reminder that, however reassuring his manner, it is impossible for Rand Paul to join the Republican mainstream. The triumph of his ideas and movement would fundamentally shift the mainstream and demolish a century and a half of Republican political history. The GOP could no longer be the party of Reagan's internationalism or of Lincoln's belief in a strong union dedicated to civil rights.

Now Montezuma [a Tohono O’odham culture hero] called all the tribes together and said, ‘I am greater than anything that has ever been, greater than anything which exists now, and greater than anything that will ever be. Now, you people shall build me a tall house, floor upon floor upon floor, a house rising into the sky, rising far above this earth into the heavens, where I shall rule as Chief of all the Universe.’ The Great Mystery Power descended from the sky to reason with Montezuma, telling him to stop challenging that which cannot be challenged, but Montezuma would not listen. He said: ‘I am almighty. Let no power stand in my way. I am the Great Rebel. I shall turn this world upside down to my own liking.’ Then good changed to evil. Men began to hunt and kill animals. Disregarding the eternal laws by which humans had lived, they began to fight among themselves. The Great Mystery Power tried to warn Montezuma and the people by pushing the sun farther away from the earth and placing it where it is now. Winter, snow, ice, and hail appeared, but no one heeded this warning. In the meantime Montezuma made the people labour to put up his many-storied house, whose rooms were of coral and jet, turquoise and mother-of-pearl. It rose higher and higher, but just as it began to soar above the clouds far into the sky, the Great Mystery Power made the earth tremble. Montezuma’s many-storied house of precious stones collapsed into a heap of rubble. When that happened, the people discovered that they could no longer understand the language of the animals, and the different tribes, even though they were all human beings, could no longer understand each other. Then Montezuma shook his fists toward the sky and called: ‘Great Mystery Power, I defy you. I shall fight you. I shall tell the people not to pray or make sacrifices of corn and fruit to the Creator. I, Montezuma, am taking your place!’ The Great Mystery Power sighed, and even wept, because the one he had chosen to lead mankind had rebelled against him. Then the Great Mystery resolved to vanquish those who rose against him. He sent the locust flying far across the eastern waters, to summon a people in an unknown land, people whose faces and bodies were full of hair, who rode astride strange beasts, who were encased in iron, wielding iron weapons, who had magic hollow sticks spitting fire, thunder, and destruction. The Great Mystery Power allowed these bearded, pitiless people to come in ships across the great waters out of the east - permitted them to come to Montezuma’s country, taking away Montezuma’s power and destroying him utterly. From Montezuma and the Great Flood

He's a big bad-ass motherfucking biker who rules his kingdom with an iron fist and yet can love on a girl so soft and sweet, she sees God in all his heavenly glory. 

You don’t need to worry about the plans we have for you, because those plans are still right on track. Back before you were born, Khrushchev said that the United States would be taken down, even if the Soviet Union no longer existed. This series of events were anticipated long before now. If the Soviet Union itself dissolves, Russia will still be ruled by some form of the Communist Party, or even by a KGB operative, and you will still get to do what you want. After you graduate, you will be sent to Chicago, where you will be apprenticed by the mayor, Rich Riley. Riley is a second generation mayor of that city, and he rules with an iron fist, like his father once did. A number of our operatives also live there, so you will never feel alone, and you will learn from the best.

If you are lenient with criminals, crime will rise. If you oppress the masses, they will rise up against you. If you are just and kind, even your enemies will respect you. To rule over your nation righteously is better than to rule over a hundred nations with an iron fist.

Most East Asians speak and dream in the language of the Han Empire. No matter what their origins, nearly all the inhabitants of the two American continents, from Alaska’s Barrow Peninsula to the Straits of Magellan, communicate in one of four imperial languages: Spanish, Portuguese, French or English. Present-day Egyptians speak Arabic, think of themselves as Arabs, and identify wholeheartedly with the Arab Empire that conquered Egypt in the seventh century and crushed with an iron fist the repeated revolts that broke out against its rule. About 10 million Zulus in South Africa hark back to the Zulu age of glory in the nineteenth century, even though most of them descend from tribes who fought against the Zulu Empire, and were incorporated into it only through bloody military campaigns.

All of me. I might be an ugly monster that rules with an iron fist, a bastard that runs this town, but for her, I’m but a man whose heart is vulnerable to the one creature that can kill me with barely a thought . . . Allie Bancroft. She lets the moment stretch, torturing me before mercifully placing her hand on my cheek and touching her forehead to mine.

The political landscape was soon to change, soon to swallow up this way of lawlessness, and for both gangs currently ruling this city with an iron fist, it was either to be violent now and secure their holdings, or regret it later should a greater power swoop in when there was no way to win territory back.

This isn’t normal, Lilly, for someone of my status to date someone like you.” “Oh my GOD! Who cares! Jesus Christ, Keller. It’s not like we’re living in a time where women’s rights are suppressed and men rule with an iron fist. We’re living in this modern day, with a king and queen who approve. So, your whole excuse of class differences doesn’t check out.

Then I'll bring her into my dark world where pain is the king over pleasure. He rules with an iron fist. And pleasure bends to the will of pain. I will show her my kingdom. She will be my queen.

So many men demand respect by ruling with an iron fist, but they could be loved if only they gave us their tears.

A leader who recognized that true strength meant ruling with a fair and even hand rather than an iron fist. Who valued tradition, but also embraced new ideologies that allowed us to thrive.

They have ruled since then with an iron fist. Tribe is set against tribe. That way they fight each other and don’t unite to overthrow the shamans. Poverty is rife. Superstition abounds. The sciences of building, medicine, farming and many others have regressed. The people are lied to about everything, and they know it, but fear to speak lest the nazram are sent to their homes. Traitors are called heroes, and villains are put forward for veneration. The truth is made to stand on its head, and lies are spoken unashamedly as the truth. Does this sound familiar to you? It should. It all happened in your time too, before Chen Fei rose to power.

A sense of pride washes over me when they all yield to my simple demands. It’s what keeps the wheel greased and moving efficiently. We’re not a Fortune 500 company and one of the world’s most prestigious acquisition firms for nothing. It takes an iron fist to keep everyone in perfect submission. All because they obey my one golden rule.

Pakhan gives an order, we obey. He’s our leader. The father of our group. A man who rules with an iron fist but pledges loyalty to the men beneath him. In turn, we swear our allegiance to him.

nudged the stars gently and found them more responsive to my whims as I angled them towards King. And finally, they let me see them. They were just a blur of shadow, but I knew it was them from the cold feeling sweeping through my bones. They stood as a dark lord in Alestria, the streets red with blood as magic swept into their body and made them into a creature of impossible, terrifying power. I saw the throne once more, the shadowy form of King claiming it as Fae wound through the entire palace around him, offering up their lives, their power. King fed on it all, becoming the most powerful Fae to ever walk the land. They ruled with an iron fist, crushing any who turned against them, wielding the masses of the Black Card to control the kingdom. There were curfews and hooded guards patrolling the streets, watching every Fae and making sure they abided to King’s laws. I tried to force the stars to show me King’s face and the shadows began to peel back as I watched the monster sitting on their throne. Lionel Acrux stared at me from within their hood and my heart juddered, but their face changed just as quickly, showing me people I knew hiding behind the mask of shadow. From Orion to Eugene, Greyshine, Scarlett, Mars, Titan, Cindy Lou and finally…Gareth. His mouth was moving in words I couldn’t hear and I tried to get closer, his face contorted as he screamed and screamed and suddenly his voice boomed in my head. “Save her, Gabriel – save her – the power will destroy her and all that she loves, let her bite you, it’s the only way!

It was a habit from high school that carried well over to her adult life: to write down the tasks she needed to do the following day, starting with the most important one. Years later, she still maintained the habit, albeit with a different purpose. Her younger self had wanted to rule her day with an iron fist; now, Yeongju soothed herself with the lists.

She drank her iced tea and sighed. “How’s it going?” She looked at me. “Is this a serious question? Are you really asking or just making conversation?” “When have I ever just made conversation?” “Okay.” Andrea sipped some tea. “Well, I’m mean, too harsh, and I rule the clan like an iron-fisted bitch.” “Aha.” I had no idea how anyone could lead the bouda clan. They were all nuts.

The saddest fact about humanity is that good, honest, honorable people fall prey to lies told by convincing deceivers and unwittingly work to undermine their own futures, all so that a handful of evil people can rule over them with an iron fist, and by the time the masses realize their folly, it’s always too late. That is the story of human history,

You rule with an iron fist, Daddy Eaton.” I groan, cheeks pinching up in distaste. “That’s what we call my dad.” A silent puff of air slips from her lips, the bottom one more full than the top. “Daddy Cade it is.

No one ruled with an iron fist like an aristocrat looking to keep the status quo . . . status quo.

was absolute, having built layers of snitches to watch his snitches to watch his crews. Politicians, police, even some members of the FBI were firmly in his back pocket, and he kept them there by bribery, extortion, and good old-fashioned threats of violence. Old Man O’Shea, as he was referred to by the locals, showed no mercy. To anyone. He ruled with an iron fist and had no softness within him for anyone, including his own sons. Kieran and Conall were born to him from his wife, Fiona, a raven-haired, blue-eyed beauty he’d met on the Emerald Isle. Rumor had it he beat her, degraded her, and eventually killed her spirit, which then killed her body. Paddy made sure nothing could ever be proven. Fionn and Shannon were his children by his lifelong mistress, Gillian. At least, it was suspected she was his longtime mistress. She hadn’t actually been seen for years. His sons had not been raised by their mothers. When each boy turned six, he was taken and raised

Then I’ll bring her into my dark world where pain is the king over pleasure. He rules with an iron fist. And pleasure bends to the will of pain. I will show her my kingdom. She will be my queen

From a leadership lean, are you the BOSS that creates fear and rules with an “iron fist” or are you a LEADER who listens and connects with your team members to create a culture where collaboration and creativity can thrive?

Instead of creating and enforcing the laws, government workers will serve as mediators or facilitators between the law and the democratic demands of the general public. An end to ruling with an iron fist will emerge no later than 2022 in the United States, and no later than 2030 for all other nations.

previously noted, the nations of the European Union, after the fall of the worlds only superpower, could be re-named the European Muslim Union, or a similar name will be chosen conveying the new Muslim identity of the continent. Muslims have tried over the centuries, unsuccessfully, to conquer Europe. Therefore, moving to a European nation before the Daughter of Babylon falls could result in living in the “belly of the beast” and would be highly dangerous for a Christian or a Jewish immigrant. Recall that Daniel warned that the Antichrist will be “a king of fierce countenance” (Daniel 8:11) and “He will cause astounding devastation…He will destroy …the holy people” (Daniel 8:24).  The prophesied Antichrist will rule the conquered nations of the world with an iron fist. Fleeing to Europe would be an unwise move.

Watching her parents, Elizabeth sighed; her mother and father changed after Lydia’s elopement from Brighton. Her father ruled Longbourn with an iron fist and forbid any officer or gentlemen he did not know personally from setting foot on the estate, and Mrs. Bennet placated her husband with his favourite dishes at the table and curbed her tongue as much as possible.

The gelding had a broad back, making for a comfortable ride. Yedan rode at a canter. Ahead, the hills thickened with scrub, and beyond was a forest of white trees, branches like twisted bones, leaves so dark as to be almost black. Just before them and running the length of the wooded fringe rose dolmens of grey granite, their edges grooved and faces pitted with cup-shaped, ground-out depressions. Each stone was massive, twice the height of a grown man, and crowding the foot of each one that he could see were skulls. He slowed his mount, reined in a half-dozen paces from the nearest standing stone. Sat motionless, flies buzzing round the horse’s flickering ears, and studied those grisly offerings. Cold judgement was never short of pilgrims. Alas, true justice had no reason to respect secrets, as those close-fisted pilgrims had clearly discovered. A final and fatal revelation. Minute popping sounds in the air announced the approach of dread power, as the buzzing flies ignited in mid-flight, black bodies bursting like acorns in a fire. The horse shied slightly, muscles growing taut beneath Yedan, and then snorted in sudden fear. ‘Hold,’ Yedan murmured, his voice calming the beast. Those of the royal line among the Shake possessed ancient knowledge, memories thick as blood. Tales of ancient foes, sworn enemies of the uncertain Shore. More perhaps than most, the Shake rulers understood that a thing could be both one and the other, or indeed neither. Sides possessed undersides and even those terms were suspect. Language itself stuttered in the face of such complexities, such rampant subtleties of nature. In this place, however, the blended flavours of compassion were anathema to the powers that ruled. Yet the lone figure that strode out from the forest was so unexpected that Yedan Derryg grunted as if he had been punched in the chest. ‘This realm is not yours,’ he said, fighting to control his horse. ‘This land is consecrated for adjudication,’ the Forkrul Assail said. ‘I am named Repose. Give me your name, seeker, that I may know you—’ ‘Before delivering judgement upon me?’ The tall, ungainly creature, naked and weaponless, cocked his head. ‘You are not alone. You and your followers have brought discord to this land. Do not delay me—you cannot evade what hides within you. I shall be your truth.’ ‘I am Yedan Derryg.’ The Forkrul Assail frowned. ‘This yields me no ingress—why is that? How is it you block me, mortal?’ ‘I will give you that answer,’ Yedan replied, slipping down from the horse. He drew his sword. Repose stared at him. ‘Your defiance is useless.’ Yedan advanced on him. ‘Is it? But, how can you know for certain? My name yields you no purchase upon my soul. Why is that?’ ‘Explain this, mortal.’ ‘My name is meaningless. It is my title that holds my truth. My title, and my blood.’ The Forkrul Assail shifted his stance, lifting his hands. ‘One way or another, I will know you, mortal.’ ‘Yes, you will.’ Repose attacked, his hands a blur. But those deadly weapons cut empty air, as Yedan was suddenly behind the Forkrul Assail, sword chopping into the back of the creature’s elongated legs, the iron edge cutting between each leg’s two hinged knees, severing the buried tendons—Repose toppled forward, arms flailing. Yedan chopped down a second time, cutting off the Assail’s left arm. Blue, thin blood sprayed on to the ground. ‘I am Shake,’ Yedan said, raising his sword once more. ‘I am the Watch.’ The sudden hiss from Repose was shortlived, as Yedan’s sword took off the top of the Forkrul Assail’s head.