No good opera plot can be sensible, for people do not sing when they are feeling sensible.

You shall love your crooked neighbour, with your crooked heart.

Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links, Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks, Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh There is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.

All I have is a voice.

Those to whom evil is doneDo evil in return.

Those who hate to go to bed fear death; those who hate to get up fear life.

We all have these places where shy humiliations gambol on sunny afternoons.