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The wretched desert takes its form, the jackal proud and tight.
In search of you, I feel my way, through the slowest heaving night.
Whatever fear invents, I swear it makes no sense.
I reach through the border fence.
Come down, come talk to me.
--
Come Talk to Me

 

Peter Gabriel

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Q: Why is it that in all of your commercials you have the image of Latinos? What do you see when you hear, and I quote, "illegal aliens?"
Sharron Angle: I think that you're misinterpreting those commercials. I'm not sure that those are Latinos in that commercial. What it is, is a fence and there are people coming across that fence. What we know is that our northern border is where the terrorists came through. That's the most porous border that we have. We cannot allow terrorists; we cannot allow anyone to come across our border if we don’t know why they're coming. So we have to secure all of our borders and that's what that was about, is border security. Not just our southern border, but our coastal border and our northern border.

 

Sharron Angle

 

Do you curse where you come from?
Do you swear in the night?
Will it mean much to you
If I treat you right?
Do you like what you're doing?
Would you do it some more?
Or will you stop once and wonder
What you're doing it for?
Hey slow Jane, make sense.
Slow, slow, Jane, cross the fence.

 

Nick Drake

 

Misty path and the night is endless,
She could be a queen
Or a desert princess.
Hero takes her hand and leads her through...
Who knows what this night will do?
Only in the blue night he comes to her
That's when the whole night
Belongs to her.

 

Mike Oldfield

 

At night I wake up and think, What color will make me feel better when I soak in the bathtub for an hour? I want everyone who's dreaming of a glamorous life to know that I'd trade a good bath any day for the heels, the hair, the makeup, the tight dresses, the photographs, the small talk.

 

Salma Hayek

 

I know my life's a pain and but a span,
I know my sense is mocked with everything;
And to conclude, I know myself a man,
Which is a proud and yet a wretched thing.

 

John (poet) Davies