Runaway King Quotes

Everyone gets scared at times. It's only the fools who won't admit it.

You wouldn't want to be king of my country," I said. "Why is that?" "Well, you're rather fat. I doubt you'd fit onto my throne.

You're such a young king. I barely remember being your age." "Then clearly we're talking about how old you are, not how young I am.

Her eyes scanned the dark skies. "Did it rain? Why are you all wet?" "A nighttime bath." "Fully dressed?" "I'm modest.

You should thank me for tolerating you. I had hoped that becoming a royal would cure your foul manners." "That's interesting. My father hoped that stripping me of royalty would do the same thing.

Above all else, I think that you are a compulsive liar." My laughter was tense, but sincere. "Hardly. In fact, I consider myself a compulsive truth teller. It's only that everyone else seems compelled to misunderstand me.

Erick: "I think I may grow to hate you before this is over." Jaron/Sage: "But you don't already and that's got to be some sort of record.

I need a sword first," I said. "People here keep taking mine.

The pirates wanted my life, Vargen wanted my country, and my regents wanted to paint rainbows over reality and claim all was well.

Long live king Jaron. If he leads us half as well as he entertains us, then Carthya has a truly great future ahead.

I won't start the battle, but if it comes, I'll finish it.

(Talking about Jaron's broken leg) "How does it feel?" Fink asked. "Like butterfly kisses, what do you think?

Fink had a full bowl and grinned at me as he sat back on the bench. "It would help if you used words like 'please' and 'thank you.'" "Then I'll thank you to please stay out of my business.

Any chance we can bypass the cruelest method of death and settle this over a game of cards?

How is it that you can see your enemies so clearly and never your friends?

With introductions out of the way, Erick got down to the business of having abducted me. "Why were you asking Fink about the priest?" "I have some sins to confess," I said. "For ruining the life of the last man to kidnap me.

Do you laugh at me?" He was quiet for a moment and finally the tention drained from him. "No, Jaron," he said darkly. "I curse you with every breath I exhale, but I do not laugh.

Is it true?" Devlin asked me. "You're Prince Jaron?" "KING Jaron, actually. News must travel slower amongst the illiterate." I glared at Gregor with every inch of disdain I felt. "Shouldn't you be groveling to me or bowing or something?" Gregor smiled. "I think before I have the chance, you will already be dead." "Ah. So much for all your toasts to my long life.

And I want you to find something in the hills for the vigils to protect, like a rock or a thornbush. I don't want them around here.

Wherever our lives lead us, one thing is certain. You and I will always be connected. You might be able to deny that, but I can't. Even I am not that good a liar.

You'll address me by my title," I said sharply. "And bow until your pointed chin scrapes the floor.

I'm still a king. My title isn't determined by my crown; it's in my blood.

I haven't don anything wrong." At least, not for a few hours

I can't do that," I said. "Who'll make sure Tobias gets back safely? He can hardly cross a road without endangering himself.

I thought you were from a civilized country," he said. "How have you come to look more like Carthya's whipping boy than its king?" "I have a habit of irritating some of our less civilized people," I answered. "But you seem like a civilized...pirate. I'd much prefer it if you didn't have me whipped." "And why shouldn't I?" With some effort, I forced a smile to my face. "Because it will hurt.

Kerwyn pulled me aside as the last of the supplies were being loaded. "Please, Jaron, don't go." Despite his pleas, I could only shake my head. "There's no other choice now." "I thought a little sleep would change your mind." Placing my hand on Kerwyn's shoulder, I said, "I had the same concern, so I kept myself awake.

As they began to tie me, I wanted to yell out, to release some of my fear that way, but I held it in. Imogen wouldn't be that far from here yet, and I didn't want her to know what was about to happen. If it was possible to scream on the inside, though, I was, and the sound of it was deafening.

My hands folded into fists. "As king, that is my order." "Forgive me, but the king's order is the most reckless thing he's ever said, which we both know is quite an accomplishment. If you want to stop me from dragging you back to Drylliad, then you'll have to kill me here." "I can't do that," I said. "Who'll make sure Tobias gets back safely? He can hardly cross a road without endangering himself." "I can too," Tobias said.

What’s the point of gaining peace if it costs us our freedom? I won’t trade the one for the other.

The field was empty now. The grasses had been laid flat by more than one game played there, but in the center of it all, a single wildflower caught my attention. I was bright purple and stood erect where a hundred others around it had been smashed. I wondered if it had somehow escaped harm, or if it had been stepped on before but refused to lie down.

By now, Gregor had recovered. "Sage? Devlin, forgive my accusation, but you are a fool. Don't you know who this is?" Devlin didn't appear to forgive the accusation. With a sneer on his face, he folded his arms and said, "Enlighten me." Gregor looked at me and frowned. "He can perform the Avenian accent as well as his own Carthyan tongue. And although he has a reputation for being able to steal the white off snow if he chooses to, this boy is far from being a mere thief. Devlin, you are facing the boy who has haunted the pirates for the past four years. This is Jaron, the lost prince of Carthya.

Erick had underestimated the distance, both to the ground and the cliff above me, yet the texture of the cliff wall was better than I'd hoped for. Vines and plants grew dense and well rooted, and there were many rocks and missing chunks of earth. I didn't know whether I could make it to the top on one leg or not, but I thought it was a great day to try.

Let's begin with an easy agreement. Before his death, your father and I were negotiating for a small area of land on our borders, near Libeth. The Carthyan land has a spring that my farmers need for their crops. Carthya has other spings nearby, so you won't miss it." "My father wouldn't have missed it, but I would," I said, with no actual idea of what spring he meant. "It happens to be my favourite water source in all of Carthya, and I won't part with it.

Finally I grinned and said, "I won't eat meat if it's been overcooked." She (Amarinda) glanced up at me, confused, and I added, "I thought you should know that, since we're going to be friends now." Amarinda's smile widened. "I think it's unfair that women aren't allowed to wear trousers. They seem far more comfortable than dresses." I chuckled. "They're not. Every year I think fashion invents one more piece I have to add to my wardrobe." "And one more layer to my skirts." She thought for a moment, then said, "I think it's funny when you're rude to the cook. I shouldn't admit that, but his face turns all sorts of colors when you are and there's nothing he can do about it." "He can overcook my meat.

In hindsight, these gardens were the perfect place for a nice and quiet attempted murder.

Ah. How’s your leg where I stabbed you?” “It hurts.” “Good.

I replied with an Avenian accent. "Is the priest of this church still here?" "No." He squinted at me. "Never seen you before. You from out of town?" "I've never seen you before either," I said. "So maybe you're the one from out of town." That amused him. "My name is Fink. Well, that's not really m name, but it's what everyone calls me." "What's your name, then." "Dunno. Everyone just calls me Fink." "Don't you have anywhere else to go?" "Not really. Why d'you want the priest?" "A doctrinal question. What punishment does the Book of Faith recommend for a kid who's being too nosy?

I became who I was meant to be and you should do the same.

There was something you failed to understand about me. I never run!

Everyone gets scared at times. Its only the fools who won't admit it. -The Runaway King

Nobody comes back from the pirates,” he muttered. “Ever.

Don't give up, Sage, and don't give in to him. Please. A lot of us are watching you, and we need to see that it's possible to win.

Tears welled in my eyes, bringing to the surface an emotion that I had always thought would forever linger out of my reach. I was at peace.

It wasn’t a good idea, but I seemed to be experiencing a shortage of better alternatives.

Was it possible for a king to run so far from his identity that he ceased to be anyone special? Because I had never felt lower, or less worthy of my title.

Neil" might be an easily-spooked runaway, and "Nathaniel" was a hunted young man, but "Abram" was the one shielded from and untouched by his father's bloody business. Neil would pull on every murder he'd seen and every endless, desperate night, and he'd face Riko unflinching. It was the least he could do. It was all he could do.

not friends. Nor did I have any idea of how to fix things with her, if that was even possible. Conner lowered his voice and continued,

reception

What does it feel like?' 'Like butterfly kisses, what do you think?

When the other side only wants your destruction, what is left to negotiate?

That day I brought Nila here, you asked me to stay the night. Was that a sincere offer?" "Of course it was." "Because of what I'd done for her?" "Because you looked like someone who needed a place to stay.

Fink had a full bowl and grinned at me as he sat back on the bench. "It would help if you used words like 'please and 'thank you.'" "Then I'll thank you to please stay out of my business." - The Runaway King

And my stature never sank when I joined you. You may be a thief, but there is far more good in you than bad. I'm better off for knowing you.

Lapangan itu sekarang kosong. Rumput menjadi rebah karena disana telah dilakukan lebih dari satu permainan, tetapi di tengah-tengah semua itu, setangkai bunga liar menarik perhatianku. Warnanya ungu terang dan berdiri tegak di tempat ratusan yang lain di sekitarnya lumat. Aku bertanya-tanya kalau bunga itu entah bagaimana telah selamat, atau kalau ia pernah terinjak sebelumnya tetapi menolak untuk rebah. (hal 173)

Eddie saw great things and near misses. Albert Einstein as a child, not quite struck by a run-away milk-wagon as he crossed a street. A teenage boy named Albert Schweitzer getting out of a bathtub and not quite stepping on the cake of soap lying beside the pulled plug. A Nazi Oberleutnant burning a piece of paper with the date and place of the D-Day Invasion written on it. He saw a man who intended to poison the entire water supply of Denver die of a heart attack in a roadside rest-stop on I-80 in Iowa with a bag of McDonald’s French fries on his lap. He saw a terrorist wired up with explosives suddenly turn away from a crowded restaurant in a city that might have been Jerusalem. The terrorist had been transfixed by nothing more than the sky, and the thought that it arced above the just and unjust alike. He saw four men rescue a little boy from a monster whose entire head seemed to consist of a single eye. But more important than any of these was the vast, accretive weight of small things, from planes which hadn’t crashed to men and women who had come to the correct place at the perfect time and thus founded generations. He saw kisses exchanged in doorways and wallets returned and men who had come to a splitting of the way and chosen the right fork. He saw a thousand random meetings that weren’t random, ten thousand right decisions, a hundred thousand right answers, a million acts of unacknowledged kindness. He saw the old people of River Crossing and Roland kneeling in the dust for Aunt Talitha’s blessing; again heard her giving it freely and gladly. Heard her telling him to lay the cross she had given him at the foot of the Dark Tower and speak the name of Talitha Unwin at the far end of the earth. He saw the Tower itself in the burning folds of the rose and for a moment understood its purpose: how it distributed its lines of force to all the worlds that were and held them steady in time’s great helix. For every brick that landed on the ground instead of some little kid’s head, for every tornado that missed the trailer park, for every missile that didn’t fly, for every hand stayed from violence, there was the Tower. And the quiet, singing voice of the rose. The song that promised all might be well, all might be well, that all manner of things might be well.

He struggled wildly and got one hand free just as a fist looped down into his face like a runaway moon.

...Just because it's possible doesn't mean its wise

I raised both my arms and with a new strength to my voice, said, "My people, my friends. We are Carthya!

Everyone gets scared at times. It’s only the fools who won’t admit it.

This is where the runaway train started down the track. I was inside the dining car enjoying a plate of cookies or something. I didn't feel it then. But the train had been boarded on Saturday night when we drank the bat. And this was the beginning of its journey. Right here.

The way that you see someone in the military in their uniform is the way that we should see you, Christian when we meet you. There must be a light about you. There must be patience about you. A hope in your eyes that the world doesn't have because you belong to our King Jesus!

Never. I wouldn’t trade one day I’ve spent married to Clarisse for even an hour of being single again. I need Clarisse like I need air.

calmly said, “You misunderstand the reasons why the pirates want my life. Whether I’m

Belief and reader absorption come in the details: An overturned tricycle in the gutter of an abandoned neighborhood can stand for everything. - Stephen King

I’m not Mrs. Russo yet. There’s still time for me to live out my runaway bride fantasy,” she quipped. A wicked smile spread across my lips. “I do love a good chase.

Duka baru menguar di dada, berbeda dari yang kurasakan sebelumnya. Jika pada suatu saat ada seorang yang dapat kuberikan hatiku. Aku Baru saja mengusirnya dari hidupku selamanya.

If there was someone i could one day give my heart to, i had just send her away from my life forever

Look what you made me do, little one. No king should chase his runaway servant, and certainly not into lands he hasn’t stepped on for nearly two centuries.” I didn’t want it to, but my face fell into the crook of his neck, letting tears run down his collarbone. “You broke my legs.

When Paris, a Trojan prince, stole the beautiful Helen from her husband, the King of Sparta, that,’ he pointed to the Marathonisi, ‘is where the runaways first dropped anchor. They left the caique and spent the first night together on the island. Homer wrote about it. It used to be called Kranae.’ We were dumbfounded. Kranae! I had always wondered where it was. The whole of Gytheion was suddenly transformed. Everything seemed to vanish except the dark silhouette of the island where thousands of years ago that momentous and incendiary honeymoon began among the whispering fennel.

If I’m going to ride this out and stay alive, then I’m king high ballbuster. I took on God and almost did the old man in. A few grumpy horns and hoofs types and a petting zoo full of rabid Pokemons? I’m Satan. I can deal that and play “Smoke on the Water” while getting a lap dance on a runaway train all at the same time.

We had the run of the Palace after dark, if we kept clear of the gates and walls. No runaway had ever passed them. It was said too that there was a curse on the attempt, and that your next bull after always killed you. Apart from that, bull-dancers went everywhere, as the Corinthian had said; though it was such a warren that lovers and mistresses would always send a servant for a guide. But the girls were locked in at night and watched all day. Their maidenhood was closely kept.

Montjoy, the French herald, comes to the English king under a flag of truce and asks that they be permitted to bury their dead and “Sort our nobles from our common men; For many of our princes (wo the while!) Lie drowned and soaked in mercenary blood; So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs In blood of princes.” (Henry V., Act 4, Sc. 7.) With equal courtesy Richard III., on Bosworth field, speaks of his opponents to the gentlemen around him: “Remember what you are to cope withal — A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways, A scum of Bretagne and base lackey peasants.” (Act 5, Sc. 3.)

George Washington had turned down the requests of blacks, seeking freedom, to fight in the Revolutionary army. So when the British military commander in Virginia, Lord Dunmore, promised freedom to Virginia slaves who joined his forces, this created consternation. A report from one Maryland county worried about poor whites encouraging slave runaways: The insolence of the Negroes in this county is come to such a height, that we are under a necessity of disarming them which we affected on Saturday last. We took about eighty guns, some bayonets, swords, etc. The malicious and imprudent speeches of some among the lower classes of whites have induced them to believe that their freedom depended on the success of the King’s troops. We cannot therefore be too vigilant nor too rigourous with those who promote and encourage this disposition in our slaves.

and were willing to suffer pain if necessary.” A young woman in the spring and summer of 1967 was walking toward a door just as that door was springing open. A stage was set for her adulthood that was so accommodatingly extreme—so whimsical, sensual, and urgent—that behavior that in any other era would carry a penalty for the daring was shielded and encouraged. There was safety in numbers for every gorgeous madness; good girls wanting to be bad hadn’t had so much cover since the Jazz Age. San Francisco—glowing with psychedelic mystique, the whole city plastered with Fillmore and Avalon posters of tangle-haired goddess girls—was preparing for a convocation (of hapless runaways from provincial suburbs, it would turn out), the Summer of Love, through which the term “flower children” would be coined, while in harsh, emotion-sparking contrast, helicopters were dropping thousands of U.S. boys into the swamps of Vietnam.

At times, we want to "feel" God. The truth is, we won't always have happy emotions. We won't always feel like loving. We won't always feel like pressing forward but, we can move into our daily journey by remembering that "Be sure of this : I am with you always, even to the end of the age" - (Matthew 28:20 NLT) In those moments where you feel empty or like you've driven miles away from God, we have to remember this powerful promise, " When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown" (Isaiah 43:2 NLT). So, you may feel frustrated with God because things aren't going your way and you may have fallen into depression. It's time for you to get back in the car and go back home to our King Jesus. All of your flesh is going to fight you to find something more comfortable but, you must learn to train your flesh to do what the Bible says to do in the midst of tests. Here are a few things that I did when I was fell into this trap.

it died away, Stu said: “This wasn’t on the agenda, but I wonder if we could start by singing the National Anthem. I guess you folks remember the words and the tune.” There was that ruffling, shuffling sound of people getting to their feet. Another pause as everyone waited for someone else to start. Then a girl’s sweet voice rose in the air, solo for only the first three syllables: “Oh, say can—” It was Frannie’s voice, but for a moment it seemed to Larry to be underlaid by another voice, his own, and the place was not Boulder but upstate Vermont and the day was July 4, the Republic was two hundred and fourteen years old, and Rita lay dead in the tent behind him, her mouth filled with green puke and a bottle of pills in her stiffening hand. A chill of gooseflesh passed over him and suddenly he felt that they were being watched, watched by something that could, in the words of that old song by The Who, see for miles and miles and miles. Something awful and dark and alien. For just a moment he felt an urge to run from this place, just run and never stop. This was no game they were playing here. This was serious business; killing business. Maybe worse. Then other voices joined in. “—can you see, by the dawn’s early light,” and Lucy was singing, holding his hand, crying again, and others were crying, most of them were crying, crying for what was lost and bitter, the runaway American dream, chrome-wheeled, fuel-injected, and stepping out over the line, and suddenly his memory was not of Rita, dead in the tent, but of he and his mother at Yankee Stadium—it was September 29, the Yankees were only a game and a half behind the Red Sox, and all things were still possible. There were fifty-five thousand people in the Stadium, all standing, the players in the field with their caps over their hearts, Guidry on the mound, Rickey Henderson was standing in deep left field (“—by the twilight’s last gleaming—”), and the light-standards were on in the purple gloaming, moths and night-fliers banging softly against them, and New York was around them, teeming, city of night and light. Larry joined the singing too, and when it was done and the applause rolled out once more, he was crying a bit himself. Rita was gone. Alice Underwood was gone. New York was gone. America was gone. Even if they could defeat Randall Flagg, whatever they might make would never be the same as that world of dark streets and bright dreams.

CHAPTER ONE A Heartbreak “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18. If the world could fall apart in seconds, Hannah King imagined this is what it must feel like. There was surely no sensation like the buildup of a hope that had the potential to change one’s life being shattered

Here’s the thing about falling in love. Once it happens, you can’t take it back, you can’t slow it down or stop it. It’s like a runaway horse with a mind of its own. I’d fallen for Raife, and even though I wanted to kill him right now, I couldn’t deny how handsome he looked, how safe he made me feel, and how much his protective blue-eyed gaze affected me.

The more I learned of my father’s reign, the less I felt that I had ever known him.

Runaway. That's such an ugly word. Ain't it, Dolphin." "That's Dauphin, Dough-fan, Bilgewater." "That's Bridgewater." The Duke looked at me. "Anyway, the King and I have come up with a new business.

Sexton had good cause to study his prototype Opta-style stats during the 1968/69 season, which followed a now familiar Chelsea pattern. The Blues finished fifth in the league, without ever seriously challenging runaway champions Leeds. Again, the various cups promised much but delivered nothing but disappointment. In

Basically, Sam Phillips recorded Bill Haley, Johnny Cash, and all those other Memphis guys; Chuck Berry played the top two strings; Elvis appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show above the waist; the Beatles made all the girls squirm by singing about wanting to hold their “hands”; Ray Davies got lost in a sunset; Pete Townshend smashed his guitar; Brian Wilson heard magic in his head and made it come out of a studio; the Rolling Stones urinated on a garage door; and then (skipping a bit) you’ve got Joey Levine and Chapman-Chinn and Mott the Hoople and Iggy and the Runaways and KISS and the Pink Fairies and Rick Nielsen and Jonathan Richman and Johnny Ramone and Lemmy and the Young brothers and Cook and Jones and Pete Shelley and Feargal Sharkey and Rob Halford … and Foghat. You get what I’m saying. It didn’t happen in a vacuum, but it did happen, and now here we are in the aftermath.

You clean up nice, Mr. Russo.” “I could say the same for you, Mrs. Russo.” “I’m not Mrs. Russo yet. There’s still time for me to live out my runaway bride fantasy.” “I do love a good chase.

Look what you made me do, little one. No king should chase his runaway servant, and certainly not into lands he hasn’t stepped on for nearly two centuries.” I didn’t want it to, but my face fell into the crook of his neck, letting tears run down his collarbone. “You broke my legs.” “Twisted,” he corrected, as if it made a difference.

ke mana pun kita dibawa kehidupan, satu hal yang pasti. kau dan aku akan selalu terhubung, kau mungkin bisa mneyangkalnya, tetapi aku tidak. aku bukan pembohong yang benar - benar hebat.

Let go of your anger. I became who I was meant to be and you should do the same. You can be so much more than this. -The Runaway King (Ascendance #2)

He was also one of the wealthiest and, therefore, most watched men in New York. Shannon was right. People would be buzzing about his attendance for weeks, if not months. “Good,” I said, trying to rein in my sudden runaway heartbeat. “Maybe it’ll bring more awareness to the piping plover issue.” She rolled her eyes. “Vivian, no one cares”—she stopped, looked around, and lowered her voice— “no one actually cares about the piping plovers. I mean, I’m sad they’re endangered, but let’s be honest. The people are here for the scene only.

In 1804, through intelligence reports obtained by Salcedo, Charles IV, the king of Spain learned that the US government planned to acquire parts of Texas.113 Spanish spies in New Orleans reported that US agents proposed to gain permission to enter Texas under the pretense of capturing runaway slaves. Their actual plan was to convince Caddo and Comanche groups to form military alliances and attack Spanish settlements.

Hardly. In fact, I consider myself a compulsive truth teller. It's only that everyone else seems compelled to misunderstand me." -Jaron

The Mystery of the Howling Dog The Mystery of the Hidden Suitcase The Mystery of Treasure Island ~ Easter Holidays: The Mystery of Four Towers The Mystery of the Burning Plane The Mystery of the Russian Spy The Mystery of Ghost Island The Mystery of the Perfect Thief The Mystery of the Underwater Car The Mystery of the Crown Jewels ~ Summer Holidays: The Mystery of the Amphibious Jeep The Mystery of the Escaped Prisoner The Mystery of the Bermuda Triangle The Mystery of the Runaway King The Mystery of the Secret Lake

She could walk the mile from Wall Street to the north edge of the city. But then she’d run into the guards stationed there. She’d have to sneak past them and not get shot. Then she’d have eleven miles of running to the north edge of the island. If she took the Greenwich Road or the Post Road, she’d likely be captured by one in need of a slave or in need of the reward paid for a healthy runaway. If she stuck to the woods that ran up the center of the island, she could be et by a bear or drowned in a swamp. If angels guided her safe through the woods and she made the north edge, she’d have to get past the guards watching over King’s Bridge, where New York Island touched the rest of America. I rolled over, my back to the fire. That girl could more likely grab hold of the feet of a passing crow and bid him fly her to safety. Better yet, sprout her own wings. The only path left was across the water. A girl like that could not swim and did not own a boat, not to mention the river currents were fast and the crossing would be noted by someone who would raise a ruckus and then the soldiers would line up like a firing squad and shoot that girl dead in the water. They wouldn’t even bury her proper, just let the water take the boat and the body and both would be consumed by sea monsters.