“Sadness and fear and hate, how they well up in the heart and mind, whenever one opens pages of these messengers of doom.”

Life has not taught me to expect nothing, but she has taught me not to expect success to be the inevitable result of my endeavors.

Fear is a journey,a terrible journey, but sorrow is at least an arrival.

There is not much talking now. A silence falls upon them all.

These hills are grass-covered and rolling, and they are lovely beyond any singing of it.

The Afrikaner has nowhere to go, and thats why he would rather destroy himself than capitulate.

Building on the mistakes of the past and the energy generated by reconciliation to create a new future.

There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills.

What broke in a man when he could bring himself to kill another?

I couldn’t face that question. (Ah, But Your Land Is Beautiful)

For it is the dawn that has come, as it has come for a thousand centuries, never failing.

People hurry home past him, to places safe from danger.

Something deep is touched here, something that is good and deep.

One thing is about to be finished, but here is something that is only begun. And while I live it will continue

Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire.

What broke when he could bring himself to thrust down the knife into the warm flesh, to bring down the axe on the living head, to cleave down between the seeing eyes, to shoot the gun that would drive death into the beating heart?

It is not permissible for us to go on destroying the family life when we know that we are destroying it.