World, they have taken the small children like butterflies and thrown them, beating their wings, into the fire--

When sleep leaves the body like smoke and man, sated with secrets, drives the overworked nag of quarrel out of its stall, then the fire-breathing union begins anew . . .

But silence is where victims dwell.

Instead of a homeland I hold the metamorphoses of the world.

We breathed the air of freedom without knowing the language or any person.

We mothers rock into the heart of the world the melody of peace.

To me, a fairy tale seems to have become reality.

When was the last time you woke up and realized that today could be the best day of your life?

I sweat in tears to get what I want.

She did not care where he was or how she was going to find him, all she knew is the reward would be worth it...however, alive, kicking and raring to go would be preferable

For the most part, that message hasn't changed a lot over the years - love is still love, and heartbreak is still heartbreak.

A free public broadcast license is a privilege.

Il faut e pater le bourgeois. One must astound the bourgeois.

I'm an academic. It's publish or perish.

Real gs move in silence like lasagna.

Tories must end tribalism and divisions.

If you reach the people nobody wants, God will give you the people everybody wants.