There's a lot we need to do in this party of ours. Our base is too narrow and so, occasionally, are our sympathies. You know what some people call us - the nasty party.

Who was it, I wonder, who decided that heartbroken relatives should host a party at the very moment all they wished for was to be left alone to grieve?

At certain times we would lack the basics in life and so I would go to my other relatives to find some money

What we did then was have a

I want this party.

One day our grandchildren will go to museums to see what poverty was like.

We were poor, but we were happy. We didn’t have much, but we were painting.

We have all been made bad, we are all needy, all unwanted guests around the feast, invited at the last minute. In recognizing this lies our creativity.

إن علتنا الفقر.

The man that mates wi’ Poverty
An’ clasps her tae his banes,
Will faither lean an’ lively thochts,
A host o’ eident weans.

The crying need for the moment in this country, as in America, is a gospel of poverty to cope with the gospel of riches that is vitiating society.

We need to realize that poverty doesn't only consist of being hungry for bread, but rather it is a tremendous hunger for human dignity. We need to love and to be someone for someone else

Funny time when most of the poor and disinherited parts of the world could live what the other party leaves on his plate ... And we continue to sing the joy, the peace, the love ... do we really believe?

I want to give a really BAD party. I mean it. I want to give a party where there’s a brawl and seductions and people going home with their feelings hurt and women passed out in the cabinet de toilette. You wait and see.