In the papers this morning: 'Police closing in on Ian Holloway.' Sorry, it's 'Palace closing in on Ian Holloway.'

The feeling ("sens", Fr.) of solidarity that is born amidst a community rest on the feeling of antagonism arouse (aroused ? arose ?... sorry, - "suscité", Fr.) by those who are opposed to it. Most of the time we only adhere to a party or a group, in order to better (or more, - "pour mieux se", Fr.) differentiate ourselves of another.

Not that anyone minds--no one's paying attention to the music. Most of them never really listen to music. Practically no one actually does. Even at concerts people pay good money for, instead of a three-dollar cover charge, they talk through the whole thing. I feel sorry for them, since none of them understand what it's like to have a song just get into your soul and become your whole world. They don't know what it's like when a song changes your life.

Don't be sorry. Just try not to let him touch you. When he touches you I see red. I can't take it. I don't want to see him or anyone else touch you

Would you tell Dank that I will alway love him? That I'm sorry that I can't leave here. I'm protecting those I love. But I will think of him every day and I will hum his song to myself every night as I go to sleep.

For starters, let's dispense with the cheap jokes about cannibalism. That means cracks about giving an arm and a leg - sorry - for a good book on the subject, or similar tasteless - sorry, again - attempts to make the subject more palatable - last one.

I let myself feel good and sorry for myself, but only for a second. Daddy always said that the most useless of all human emotions was self-pity.

It's a fine line between writing something with genuine emotional impact and turning into little idiots feeling sorry for ourselves and playing stadium rock.

I won't live in a mostly Mexican neighborhood. I'm sorry I just won't do it.

And I'm sorry for us The dinosaurs roam the earth The sky turns green