I hope to God to find out what happened to my son before I close my eyes. That's all I want.

When she performs ... all eyes are on her. She has these signature skills that she does on the floor that no one else does.

We plan, we toil, we suffer in the hope of what? A camel-load of idol's eyes? The title deeds of Radio City? The empire of Asia? A trip to the moon? No, no, no, no. Simply to wake just in time to smell coffee and bacon and eggs.

God blessed me with some great, unique features-some beautiful, in my eyes, and some not so beautiful. But I think we are all created this way for a reason, so I have no desire to tamper with that.

Silently, God opens his golden eyes over the place of skulls.

It's an interesting development, and I would hope that the chancellor would take heed.