Old books that we have known but not possessed cross our path and invite themselves over. New books try to seduce us daily with tempting titles and tantalizing covers.
Titles are granted or inherited, nobility isn't. Whatever paper we receive, be it of material or immaterial value – it will never exceed the value of your character being loved by people!
What she really felt like doing was reading. Escaping into the Enchanted Wood, up the Faraway Tree, or with the Famous Five into Smuggler's Top.
Craving for power, titles and promotion to high places is not a tool for carving impacts in the heart the world. High positions polluted by bad character are the poisons that dehydrate the world of positive virtues.
If you intend to heal the breach,” she went on, “as you claim. If you intend to abide by the treaty we have both signed, then I am the Emperor, Annur’s Emperor, and your Emperor, and you will address me properly.”“I’ve always found that those most insistent on their titles,” Moss replied, “are those least deserving of them.
Being a good leader does not require you possessing a fancy title, no more than possessing a fancy title makes you a good leader.
A “self-leader” is the positively influence you have on yourself and on others without any influence with your titles and positions. You must be able to lead yourself before you can lead others.
Davellon may be a village, but the Davellon House can be anything you make it. Nobility has to start somewhere. It might as well start with you. Let nobody look down on you, for whatever reason, My Lord. Titles are granted or inherited, nobility isn't.~Tenaxos I to Landar Parmingh, Baron Davellon
When kings the sword of justice first lay down,They are no kings, though they possess the crown.Titles are shadows, crowns are empty things,The good of subjects is the end of kings.
His Majesty, may he live forever and prosper greatly...His Majesty, may sun finches warble sweet melodies in his ear...His Majesty, may orchids bloom in the wake of his passing...His Majesty, may minstrels compose epics at the sound of his glorious name...His Majesty, may his magnificent sword shatter the breasts of his enemies...
Don't say you're a writer if you're not writing. Even if you're writing, don't call yourself a writer. Say instead, 'I write.' It's the verb that's important, not the noun.
Let us forget that we are Baptists, Methodists, Catholics, Presbyterians, or Free-thinkers, and remember only that we are men and women. After all, man and woman are the highest possible titles. All other names belittle us, and show that we have, to a certain extent, given up our individuality, and have consented to wear the collar of authority—that we are followers. Throwing away these names, let us examine these questions not as partisans, but as human beings with hopes and fears in common.
Maia screamed and woke. 'Serenity?' Cala's voice, Cala's angular shape outlined against the window. ' 'Tis an ironic title, in sooth,' Maia said feebly, realizing that the entangling garments of the nightmare were merely his bedsheets. His heart was hammering, and he was clammy with sweat.
What a vapid job title our culture gives to those honorable laborers the ancient Egyptians and Sumerians variously called Learned Men of the Magic Library, Scribes of the Double House of Life, Mistresses of the House of Books, or Ordainers of the Universe. 'Librarian' - that mouth-contorting, graceless grind of a word, that dry gulch in the dictionary between 'libido' and 'licentious' - it practically begs you to envision a stoop-shouldered loser, socks mismatched, eyes locked in a permanent squint from reading too much microfiche. If it were up to me, I would abolish the word entirely and turn back to the lexicological wisdom of the ancients, who saw librarians not as feeble sorters and shelvers but as heroic guardians. In Assyrian, Babylonian, and Egyptian cultures alike, those who toiled at the shelves were often bestowed with a proud, even soldierly, title: Keeper of the Books. - p.113
There are some promotions in life, which, independent of the more substantial rewards they offer, acquire peculiar value and dignity from the coats and waistcoats connected with them. A field-marshal has his uniform; a bishop his silk apron; a counsellor his silk gown; a beadle his cocked hat. Strip the bishop of his apron, or the beadle of his hat and lace; what are they? Men. Mere men. Dignity, and even holiness too, sometimes, are more questions of coat and waistcoat than some people imagine.