It brought back to mind the injustice I spoke of, the solitude that oppresses women intent on defending their own destinies, their own dreams, their own mistakes.

Wojtyla was a warrior, who did more to end the Soviet Union than even America.

When my father was arrested, we didn't know where they had him. My mother found him at the house of torture. It was called Villa Triste.

I am known for a life spent in the struggle for freedom, and freedom includes the freedom of religion.

Instead of learned young people we have donkeys with University degrees. Instead of future leaders we have mollusks with expensive blue jeans and phony revolutionaries with ski masks. And do you know what? Maybe this is another reason why our Moslem invaders have such an easy game.

I didn't want to kill a man. I'm not capable of killing a man. I wanted to kill a tyrant.

Life is such an effort, Child. It's a war that is renewed each day, and its moments of joy are brief parentheses for which you pay a cruel price.