The last thing I heard when I walked out those gates was Walter Bellhaven's howling laughter.

I have at least my own filing cabinet at the National Institute of Health, psychology division.

I'll wake up in the morning and think, 'Maybe I'll go out and catch me a twelve year old today.'

You never talk about your mother. Never talk about mother.

E o abade pancudo que a tardinha, a varanda, palita o dente furado saboreando o seu cafe com um ar paterno, traz dentro em si os indistintos restos dum Torquem…

Listen. With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees And fall.

This house will bear witness to his piety; this town, his birthplace, to his munificence; history to his patriotism; posterity to the depth and compass of his …