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King Quotes

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King Quotes

“He was a strong and noble lord with piercing eyes of grey. He sat upon his noble throne shining like the dawn. His sword flashed like the brightest star. He led our people well. Yet here and now he lays in blood pierced with arrows. He was the friend of many knights. He loved the warrior games. His heart was won by a lady fair for marriage they did wait. A kindly prince, his duty carried him to another's bed. And on her death true love returned, finally they wed. He felt the grief of children lost to murder and to pain. I was the youngest of his blood. I'll never be the same. Here lays my father and my lord. I know not what to say. Except my father and my lord was slain here on this day. Here lays my father and my lord. I know not what to say. Except my father and my lord was slain here on this day….”

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Book:The Ghosts of the Past
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“In the midst of the chaos, King Dastur and Queen Elara summoned their most trusted maidservant, Lyra. With tears in their eyes, they handed her their precious child. Dastur's voice was firm but filled with emotion as he spoke, "Take our son and flee. Keep him safe. Reveal his true identity to no one." Lyra, a loyal and resourceful servant, nodded, understanding the gravity of her task. She wrapped the baby in a thick cloak and with a final glance at her beloved king and queen, slipped out through a hidden passageway.”

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Book:Fallen World: Rise of An Incarnation
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“«Та який він почтальйон! — заперечив тому менший. - Дурак він, папа казав. — Потім знову повернувся до прибульця і підозріливо обміряв його. - А ти... справжній дурак?» «Е, ні! - похитав головою Валушка і підвівся. - Ніякий я не дурак, можеш сам переконатися, якщо глянеш». «Жалко, — скопилив губу малий. — Я хотів би бути дураком і добряче вилаятися королю, що його країна — відстій».”

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Book:The Melancholy of Resistance
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“Spleen Je suis comme le roi d'un pays pluvieux, Riche, mais impuissant, jeune et pourtant très vieux, Qui, de ses précepteurs méprisant les courbettes, S'ennuie avec ses chiens comme avec d'autres bêtes. Rien ne peut l'égayer, ni gibier, ni faucon, Ni son peuple mourant en face du balcon. Du bouffon favori la grotesque ballade Ne distrait plus le front de ce cruel malade; Son lit fleurdelisé se transforme en tombeau, Et les dames d'atour, pour qui tout prince est beau, Ne savent plus trouver d'impudique toilette Pour tirer un souris de ce jeune squelette. Le savant qui lui fait de l'or n'a jamais pu De son être extirper l'élément corrompu, Et dans ces bains de sang qui des Romains nous viennent, Et dont sur leurs vieux jours les puissants se souviennent, II n'a su réchauffer ce cadavre hébété Où coule au lieu de sang l'eau verte du Léthé // I'm like the king of a rain-country, rich but sterile, young but with an old wolf's itch, one who escapes his tutor's monologues, and kills the day in boredom with his dogs; nothing cheers him, darts, tennis, falconry, his people dying by the balcony; the bawdry of the pet hermaphrodite no longer gets him through a single night; his bed of fleur-de-lys becomes a tomb; even the ladies of the court, for whom all kings are beautiful, cannot put on shameful enough dresses for this skeleton; the scholar who makes his gold cannot invent washes to cleanse the poisoned element; even in baths of blood, Rome's legacy, our tyrants' solace in senility, he cannot warm up his shot corpse, whose food is syrup-green Lethean ooze, not blood. — Robert Lowell, from Marthiel & Jackson Matthews, eds., The Flowers of Evil (NY: New Directions, 1963)”

BloodKingSpleen
Book:Les Fleurs Du Mal
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