Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore, send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

My own curiosity and interest are insatiable.

I am never going to write for the sake of writing.

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.

Jews are the intensive form of any nationality whose language and customs they adopt.

Thou two-faced year, Mother of Change and Fate...

Until we are all free, we are none of us free.