“A lot of the things that I like to portray on television are otherwise my real views.”

You may call me Bray Wyatt. But I have a thousand faces and a million names. Seducer, accuser, destroyer.

I am the color red in a world full of black and white, and if you value your ability to breathe, don’t get too close. Save us, Chris. Save yourself.

I always sort of talk about – to myself at least, or to my friends, about wanting to just keep life very simple. I’ve found it most simple here in New York.

I will build my empire next to the sea, so I can laugh from my throne as my enemies drown.

The Muslim world, with its history and cultures, and indeed its different interpretations of Islam, is still little known in the West.

he two worlds, Muslim and non-Muslim, Eastern and Western, must, as a matter of urgency, make a real effort to get to know one another, for I fear that what we have is not a clash of civilisations, but a clash of ignorance on both sides.

The distinction between right and wrong (“la distinction du bien et du mal”, Fr.), is nothing else than their unyielding (or implacable) opposition.

Every real poem is the breaking of an existing silence, and the first question we might ask any poem is, What kind of voice is breaking silence, and what kind of silence is being broken?

The assumption that women are a subgroup, that men’s culture is the ‘real’ world, that patriarchy is equivalent to culture and culture to patriarchy, that the ‘great’ or ‘liberalizing’ periods of history have been the same for women as for men.

The impulse to create begins – often terribly and fearfully – in a tunnel of silence.

Every journey into the past is complicated by delusions, false memories, false namings of real events.

Men of real merit, and whose noble and glorious deeds we are ready to acknowledge, are yet not to be endured when they vaunt their own actions.