He is coming! He is coming! Like a bridegroom from his room, Came the hero from his prison To the scaffold and the doom.

Fhairshon swore a feud Against the clan M,Tavish; Marched into their land To murder and to rafish; For he did resolve To extirpate the vipers, With four-and-twenty men And five-and-thirty pipers.

Nowhere beats the heart so kindly as beneath the tartan plaid!

Give me but one hour of Scotland, Let me see it ere I die.

The earth is all the home I have, the heavens my wide roof-tree

Fhairshon had a son, Who married Noah's daughter, And nearly spoil'd to Flood, By trinking up ta water: Which he would have done, I at least believe it, Had ta mixture peen Only half Glenlivet.

Those who know who one should die knew how one should live.

It would be futile to attempt to fit women into a masculine pattern of attitudes, skills and abilities . . .

Concupiscence and force are the source of all our actions; concupiscence causes voluntary actions, force involuntary ones.

To ask the right question is already half the solution of a problem.

Religion is dogmatic. Politic is ideological. Reason must be logical, but literature has a privilege of being equivocal.

Mastery does not come from dabbling. We have to be prepared to pay the price. We need to have the sustained enthusiasm that motivates us to give our best.

While artists fervently believe that the art marketplace was invented by the devil and remains in his henchman's hands, they have no choice but to carry long spoons and sup there.

While living I want to live well.

You have to be respectful of pop culture, because people interpret it in the way they want.

The electric guitar meant that you could have a band with a drummer and a couple of guitars. And that put a lot of horn players out of work.