Look at Greg Jbara! I've watched him work for years, always switching. He's literally a different human being when he's onstage in 'Billy Elliot.' That's the fun of what we do.
We are affirming human rights for all women and girls, acknowledging the full range of diversity that exists, and detailing actions to prevent violence.
The media could do a much better job, that's for sure, especially the media that targets women... Human rights? They couldn't care less!
It is ironic that American women now need to be fortified by the inspiration of the women of the Arab Spring, who risked so much to win basic human rights.
At the height of the Cold War, when Ronald Reagan was president, the Soviets and their allies and satellites did not shirk human rights debates with the West. They had their arguments ready.
So much destruction in modern war takes place miles and miles away from the source of the destruction, the human being who has caused it.
War drags human beings from their tasks of building and improving, and pushes them en masse into the category of destroyers and killers.
Human blood is heavy; he who has shed it cannot run away.
Over a distance of a thousand miles only humanity works, not power.
The human heart is never satisfied, just like the snake that wants to swallow an elephant.
Oh, mankind, race of crocodiles! How well I recognize you down there, and how worthy you are of yourselves!
Sports can unite worlds, tear down walls and transcend race, the past, and all probability. Unlike life, sport matters.
What if man is not really a scoundrel, man in general, I mean, the whole race of mankind-then all the rest is prejudice, simply artificial terrors and there are no barriers and it's all as it should be.
A language is something infinitely greater than grammar and philology. It is the poetic testament of the genius of a race and a culture, and the living embodiment of the thoughts and fancies that have moulded them
It must be, I thought, one of the race's most persistent and comforting hallucinations to trust that "it can't happen here" -- that one's own time and place is beyond cataclysm.
She is of the race of Jeanne d’Arc, this Northern girl, in her voice, her bearing, her beliefs. That kind if not to be possessed by one man; she belongs to a cause, to the people.
We're all mad, the whole damned race. We're wrapped in illusions, delusions, confusions about the penetrability of partitions, we're all mad and in solitary confinement.
Her heart the damned thing had begun to race and she only hoped that the rapid inflation and deflation of her chest wasn't visible beneath her fitted bodice.
Today the aggressor is the shepherd of peace, and the beaten and hunted are the troublemakers of the world. What's more, there are whole races who believe it!
It's like marriage. The race there is between total knowledge of each other and death. If death comes first, it's considered a successful marriage.
Is that the end... of all the races and civilizations, and the dreams of the world, to be able to leave a few stones buried beneath the sands, to tell the Dark that we were here?
