This is a-ordspråk

There are photos that will be with us for a long time. (3 mar 2022, på Twitter under Ukrainakriget)Carl BildtUtomlands

Give the public a break – The FAKE NEWS media is trying to say that large scale immigration in Sweden is working out just beautifully. NOT! (20 feb 2017, på Twitter, måndagseftermiddagen)Donald TrumpUtomlands

He only won in the eyes of the FAKE NEWS MEDIA. I WILL NEVER CONCEDE! We have a long way to go. This was a RIGGED ELECTION! (4 nov 2020, twitter 15 november 2020, när han omnämnde Joe Biden för första gången som vinnare av presidentvalet.)Donald TrumpUtomlands

And we hope that as long as America stands for justice that peace and harmony will in the end prevail. (7 apr 2017, natten mot fredag, då USA:s militär avfyrade 59 så kallade Tomahawk-robotar mot Syrien som svarsanfall mot den giftgasattack i tisdags som man menar att Syrien bär skulden för.)Donald TrumpSyrienkriget

To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep, No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pitch and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action. (1 dec 2021, hamlet Act 3, Scene 1)William ShakespeareDalarna

Not once have I ever had the time to ask myself, 'Are my songs literature?'. (11 dec 2016, from his Nobel Prize acceptance speech read by Azita Raji, U.S. Ambassador to Sweden, during the Nobel Banquet in Stockholm.)Bob DylanNobelpriset