One year, I was a patron of a new opera. It was, to put it kindly, unpleasant to the ear. The friends I went with hated it. Keeping quiet about my contribution, I was outed when one of them, reading the program at the restaurant during dinner, saw my name.
Spanish alone was understood or spoken here; our friend, the countryman, stuck to us most nobly, he understood us not a bit better than the rest but saw that we were in distress and would not desert us.
I saw hell. The hospital had divided and conquered pretty successfully.
My father went into the armed service and I never saw my mother – I don’t know what happened to her.
Everything the human being heard from the beginning, saw with its eyes, looked upon and touched with its hands was a living word; for God was the word.
Passover and Easter are the only Jewish and Christian holidays that move in sync, like the ice skating pairs we saw during the winter Olympics.
When New Labour came to power, we got a Right-wing Conservative government. I came to realise that voting Labour wasn’t in Scotland’s interests any more. Any doubt I had about that was cast aside for ever when I saw Gordon Brown cosying up to Margaret Thatcher in Downing Street.
I slept and dreamt that life was joy. I awoke and saw that life was service. I acted and behold, service was joy.
When I heard that there were artists, I wished I could some time be one. If I could only make a rose bloom on paper, I thought I should be happy! Or if I could at last succeed in drawing the outline of winter-stripped boughs as I saw them against the sky, it seemed to me that I should be willing to spend years in trying.
People will come up to me everywhere and say, ‘Ah, I saw you on ‘Larry King,’ and, ‘Ah, I saw you on ‘Oprah.’ And it’s really nice, and a lot of people say, ‘Is it a pain?’ And I say ‘No.’ And it’s not annoying.