If you can see the handwriting on the wall … you're on the toilet.

America stands armed with resolution and virtue; but she still recoils at the idea of drawing the sword against the nation from whom she derived her origin. Yet Britain, like an unnatural parent, is ready to plunge her dagger into the bosom of her affectionate offspring.

Bucharest is a faded old gal in a raggedy coat. Once called the "Little Paris of the East," she has long lost her finery. A few parks and buildings dream of past grandeur, but the picture is spoiled by concrete and steel mementoes of Communism on every side.

...we’ve got to get the building trades organizations, the construction trades, and the oil workers. These are the people who need to be brought on board in terms of climate.

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

One cannot grow fine flowers in a thin soil.

Thy handmaid has promised not to recoil from death itself. You may use my poor self in any way, and I must do my best.

The US is sort of the flag-bearer for capitalism and free markets, the US continues to be a very important part of a global industry that is interconnected, that is dealing with a fungible commodity which is crude oil. So having equalisation through free trade is very healthy for oil.

[On making (male) bathrooms, restrooms or toilets gender-neutral] If you just take out urinals, then everyone can use them. You can solve it right now. Just rip them all out. Lets share so everyone is equal. It gets rid of so many things in one fell swoop.

This discipline and rough treatment are a furnace to extract the silver from the dross. This testing purifies the gold by boiling the scum away.

Stand here with me...with the stars and hills as witness and in their presence consecrate your life and talent, your song and your speech, your thought and your dream, to the motherland. O poet see visions from hill –tops and spread abroad the message of hope to the toilers of the valleys.

It was his belief that a witty answer turneth away wrath and that the oil of reason should always be poured on troubled waters.

If the clan did not exact punishment for an offense against the great goddess, her wrath was loosed on all the land and not just on the offender. As the elders said, if one finger brought oil it soiled all the others.

This discipline and rough treatment are a furnace to extract the silver from the dross. This testing purifies the gold by boiling the scum away.