I have made of Sydney, to which I sailed in 1965, a paradise beyond the powers of fancy.

I'm sick when I don't work for year or two.

A prisoner of war is a man who tries to kill you and fails, and then asks you not to kill him.

Does anyone who leaves a Baltic country ever want to return to it? Someone must, I suppose.

Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle. And so we must straighten our backs and work for our freedom. A man can't ride you unless your back is bent.