People who don't have nightmares don't have dreams.

Our kids, our families are no different than anybody else's. They have the same hopes and dreams. They have people who love them.

I'm sorry to say my dear wife is a dreamer,/ And as she dreams she gets paler and leaner./ Then be off to your Dream, with his fly-away hat,/ I'll stay with the girls who are happy and fat.

It's only people that aren't goths that think the Cure are a goth band.

For men tied fast to the absolute, bled of their differences, drained of their dreams by authoritarian leeches until nothing but pulp is left, become a massive, sick Thing whose sheer weight is used ruthlessly by ambitious men. Here is the real enemy of the people: our own selves dehumanized into ''the masses.'' And where is the David who can slay this giant?

B is for Breasts Of which ladies have two; Once prized for the function, Now for the view