The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.
The people of Dacca are an almost congenitally aggrieved race, rather like the French in Canada; their record, before and after independence, has been one of consistent complaint, always vocal and often violent.
O That I was where I would be, Then would I be where I am not. But where I am I must be, And where I would be I cannot.
In Southern Nevada, there is only a screen door between you and hell.
You are now landing in New Zealand. Everybody is requested to put their watches back ten years.
If an English butler and an English nanny sat down to design a country, they would come up with New Zealand.
The nice part about living in a small town is that when you don’t know what you’re doing, someone else does.
A part of us remains where ever we have been.
On the top of Corcovado, a gigantic statue of Jesus, with outstretched arms, dominates the picture. (‘Never has Christ blessed a happier and more lovable brothel,’ as the local saying has it.)
(Chicago) Hog Butcher for the World, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler; Stormy, husky, brawling, City of the Big Shoulders.