Pregled posta

We were in the open concourse where the turnstiles were. It was hardly any better here -- the enclosed space sent the voices around us echoing back in a roar that made my head ring, and the smell and feeling of all those bodies made me feel a claustrophob

Let us so live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.
A few seconds later, I tripped over a steel staircase, bashing my shins.
Silence is one of the hardest arguments to refute.
Beware the pull on your heartstrings -- it's often the pursestrings that are actually being reached for.
A moment later, I caught my breath, but I didn't say anything.
In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.
Neither did the cop car that went past, nor the firetruck, nor the next three cop-cars.