Quotes About Poetic Justice Novels & Stories

The stars that decorate the darkness of the sky will also shine. "Revenge is not the solution," I said. "There is no justice here unless you are rich and can afford to pay the right people to get your case through." "That... fuck that fact.” We sighed at the same time, both fed up with the fact that so many people have been victimized all over the world. Only if there is fairness in this world, justice would prevail. There is no case. Only the rich and powerful can achieve those.

“That is not justice. That is cruelty.” “Justice must match the scale of defiance,” a woman’s voice replied. It did not sound cruel; it sounded impartial. “You upset the ledger. You took a life out of its due course. The ledger must be balanced by knowledge. Your eternity will become witness. Let the burden of seeing be your atonement.”

the world may have moved on from him but i havent. i close the laptop and sit there staring into the dark. justice isnt clean. It never is. i exposed the truth but even now the echoes of their lies linger soft persistent whispering through the silence. and i know deep down that some stains dont wash away with proof.

He crossed his arms while narrowing his eyes at me. Time passed while playing, laughing and revealing a few things about each other which made me late for the office. Just thinking about it gives me a weird feeling. •••••••••••••• 'Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see'. ~Mark Twain. I used this quote in my poem. H.LOCKHART.

I studied so hard just to be in this position. Even though some people are telling me that justice is impossible in this country, I didn't listen to them because I do believe that I can get that in my own. I continue to believe on the beauty of my life goals. There is nothing impossible in this world, and no one can pull you down on the ladder if you are doing things with purpose. Especially if you put God in the center of everything. I looked at myself in front of the full length mirror and managed my white collar.

But with quiet, rooted certainty. Because justice wasn’t loud. It was inevitable.

“Destruction isn’t justice.” Brandon searched her face. “They’ll fight you,” he said. “They’ll make it ugly.” “They already have,” she replied. “Justice isn’t clean. But it’s the only thing that ends this without creating another grave.” He exhaled, slow. “I’d follow you anywhere,” he said. “Even into hell.” Julia stepped into him then, pressing her forehead to his chest. “I don’t want hell,” she said. “I want the truth to stand in the light long enough to matter.”

“Apparently, I tolerate dashing rebels who disappear for days on end without a word.” Adrian’s smile faltered for a moment, then he chuckled, a low rumble that sent a warmth spreading through my chest. “Fair enough. But your fire, Annalise, that’s something to admire.” I took a sip of my tea, the fragrant steam momentarily clouding my vision. “And what about you, Mr. Stone? What sets you ablaze?” He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against mine before retracting quickly. “Justice,” he said, his voice firm. “A world where people aren’t exploited, where corruption doesn’t run rampant.”

"I went for an interview not too long ago." "Well, hope all goes well," I said, faking a smile. "What would you say is a..." Bastian began, pausing to swallow, before looking at Jonathan. "A justifiable crime?" Jonathan frowned at that. "Crime is crime. There's no justice in that," he said. "You don't say," I commented, earning his attention. He must have caught on by now that I'm onto him. "There's always a loophole in everything." His frown deepened as he pondered over my statement.

Julian’s voice echoed again: “I am god.” His words still drifted through Lucien’s mind like gray smoke. Night grew cold. Lucien stared at the ashes of burnt-out joint hearts, vengeance done. Moonlight glinted on the empty cell halls. Bloodlines had been severed, but the war’s scars ran deep. And as he closed his eyes, Lucien Marchesi realized vengeance was only the prelude—justice, and the fragile dignity of survival, awaited. - - - The prison halls had become a muted echo of injustice for Julian Cristoff.