kings [Theme]

terrible!

The king was predicted that his daughter would marry a simple soldier, but kings don’t like that! Here

The chronicler of the time, Jean Froissart, wrote that “the English will never love and honor a king who does not win wars and does not like to fight.” Other European kings might have been celebrated for their knowledge or their mercy, but in England no one was interested in these criteria.

Kings and queens always have a bad temper - this is a side effect of their power.

- Kings don't give up. The person simply succumbs to the power... That's all.

The king's crown is heavy - only I can bear it!

Kings and rulers come and go, leaving behind only statues in the desert, and a couple of young people working modestly in their workshop change the entire world order.

What makes a person a king or a slave is the people around him, the environment.

- No, no, my love, you will burn in hell, but I will not, because I am the King. Chosen of God!

“I intend to give the common folk peace, food, and justice. If that's not enough to get their love, let Fungus take the journey. Or we can send a dancing bear. I was once told that nothing common people love so much as dancing bears. You can also cancel today's feast. Send the lords home to their castles and distribute food to the poor. Full stomachs and dancing bears - that's the order I want to have.

What did Viserys have that she [Princess Rhaenys] didn't have? Little sausage? Is that all it takes to be king? Then let Fungus rule. My sausage is three times as big.

In those moments of weakness. When crowns fall When the kings are below the bottom. And when the queens are ordinary. All those masks have already been dropped. All the same as all the usual. In those moments of weakness. Everything becomes really like worthless two-faced.

If he were alive, he would now be pharaoh instead of my father. But he died too soon. All this makes me think that there is something not quite right in the stories about his wisdom. After all, a truly wise person would never wish to become the pharaoh of Egypt.

The smell of a Soviet vegetable store. You will not confuse with anything. Nobody washed the goods, so it smelled like endless fields and earth. Buyers and sellers communicated politely, but the sellers, like the kings of the counter, were, to put it mildly, more often indifferent.