“The tragedy is not that things are broken.”

I have one great fear in my heart, that one day when they are turned to loving, they will find that we are turned to hating.

Forgive us all, for we all have trespasses.

Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that’s the inheritor of our fear.

Money is for buying the fruits of the earth, of the land where you were born.

But perhaps when you were too obedient, and did not do openly what others did, and were quiet in church and hard-working at school.

And whether they do not see him there in the grass, or whether they fear to halt even a moment, but they do not wake him, they let him be.

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.

Prayer cannot bring water to parched fields, or mend a broken bridge, or rebuild a ruined city; but prayer can water an arid soul, mend a broken heart, and rebuild a weakened will.

When an unbaked pot is broken, the potter can use the mud to make a new one; but when a baked one is broken, he cannot do the same any longer

Remember: Life is short, break the rules (they were made to be broken) Forgive quickly, kiss slowly Love truly, laugh uncontrollably And never regret anything that makes you smile.

Even when muddy your wings sparkle bright wonders that heal broken worlds.

I turn to right and left, in all the earth I see no signs of justice, sense or worth: A man does evil deeds, and all his days Are filled with luck and universal praise; Another’s good in all he does – he dies A wretched, broken man whom all despise.

The word ‘survivor’ carries a weight of remembrance that has broken the minds and bodies of more than a few men and women.

Oh what a wonderful soul so bright inside you. Got power to heal the sun’s broken heart, power to restore the moon’s vision too.

I’m one-hundred-fifty miles off Cape Horn, both autopilots are broken, and my boat is drifting toward one of the nastiest chunks of ocean on the face of the earth.