We are who we are, be­cause of those we choose to love and be­cause of those who love us.

Love - true love - is a precious thing. It is painful, uncomfortable, makes fools of us all, but it is what breathes meaning and color and purpose into our lives.

Actually, I can write anywhere - airport lounges, in bed, on a rattling train going north.

History is written by the victors, the strongest, the most determined. Truth is found most often in the silence, in the quiet places.

Too often I am jealous and my jealousy leads me to say things-things-that I regret.

Pas a pas, se va luenh. Step by step, we make our way.

Library campaigners are not prepared to stand by and watch something they cherish be dismantled brick by brick.