I Cry, Sometimes, Because I'm

Journalism Is An Extraordinary And Terrible Privilege. Not By Chance, If You Are Aware Of It, Does It Consume You With A Hundred Feelings Of Inadequacy. Not By Chance, When I Find Myself Going Through An Event Or An Important Encounter, Does It Seize Me Like Anguish, A Fear Of Not Having Enough Eyes And Enough Ears And Enough Brains To Look And Listen And Understand Like A Worm Hidden In The Wood Of History.

I Met Indira Gandhi In Her Office In The Government Palace. The Same Office That Had Been Her Father's - Large, Cold And Plain. She Was Sitting, Small And Slender, Behind A Bare Desk. When I Entered, She Got Up And Came Forward To Give Me Her Hand, Then Sat Down Again And Cut The Preliminaries Short By Fixing Me With A Gaze That Meant: Go Ahead With The First Question, Don't Waste Time, I Really Have No Time To Waste.

You Cannot Govern, You Cannot Administrate, With An Ignoramus.

Europe Is No Longer Europe, It Is 'eurabia,' A Colony Of Islam, Where The Islamic Invasion Does Not Proceed Only In A Physical Sense, But Also In A Mental And Cultural Sense.

Finally [indira Ganhi] Called A Beautiful Dark Little Boy Who Was Playing On The Lawn, And Embracing Him Tenderly, Murmured, 'this Is My Grandchild; This Is The Man I Love Most In The World.' It Was A Strange Sensation To Watch This Very Powerful Woman Embracing A Child.