A Quote by Simon Hoggart

Denis Healey refused to contribute an article to the 'Guardian' about his intentions, and was punished by the electorate - and then all Labour MPs - for his presumption in assuming they already knew everything about him. He became famously the best prime minister we never had. Perhaps.
You cannot think of Margaret without Denis. There comes a time when every Prime Minister needs someone to give him or her the unvarnished truth, and, in Denis, Margaret had just that.
In our party, for the post of the prime minister or chief minister, there is no race, and nor does anyone stake their claim. Who will be the prime minister or chief minister, either our parliamentary board decides on this or the elected MLAs, in the case of chief minister, and MPs, in the case of the prime minister, select their leader.
I never criticized Modi. All I said was that Modi cannot be a chief minister and still nurse prime ministerial ambitions. I only suggested that he should resign as the chief minister and then stake his claim to be prime minister.
Or perhaps a widow found him and took him in: brought him an easy chair, changed his sweater every morning, shaved his face until the hair stopped growing, took him faithfully to bed with her every night, whispered sweet nothings into what was left of his ear, laughed with him over black coffee, cried with him over yellowing pictures, talked greenly about having kids of her own, began to miss him before she became sick, left him everything in her will, thought of only him as she died, always knew he was fiction but believed in him anyway.
When I was part of McGregor's sparring camp, I struggled to find words to compliment him; I knew he couldn't fight from the first moment we sparred. It's very hard to find nice things to say about his skills. Perhaps his best attribute is his intensity, but he has to do it cleanly.
I'm from Arkansas, so I didn't even know who Howard Stern was until I was about 18 or 19. I only kind of knew what I had heard about him; then I saw him doing his thing. That's what I really liked about him.
I thank the Prime Minister for his remarks about me. Debating with him at the Dispatch Box has been exciting, fascinating, fun, an enormous challenge and, from my point of view, wholly unproductive in every sense. I am told that in my time at the Dispatch Box I have asked the Prime Minister 1,118 direct questions, but no one has counted the direct answers-it may not take long.
He was about to go home, about to return to the place where he had had a family. It was in Godric’s Hollow that, but for Voldemort, he would have grown up and spent every school holiday. He could have invited friends to his house. . . . He might even have had brothers and sisters. . . . It would have been his mother who had made his seventeenth birthday cake. The life he had lost had hardly ever seemed so real to him as at this moment, when he knew he was about to see the place where it had been taken from him.
Born in Kansas City, Missouri, and knowing nothing about Picasso, I had the audacity to knock on his door, became his friend, and took thousands of photographs, of him, his studios, his life and his friends.
The original Zal story by Ferdowsi gives a very moving account of an infant who had all odds against him - he was left to die in the wilderness and a giant, benevolent bird rescued him and became his guardian angel. This tale thrilled me; I've always wanted to write about it.
My idol was always Tomas Rosicky. He used to be phenomenal. He had such a good eye for an opening and knew where his team-mates were and he was so quick. I copied everything about him – right down to his sweatbands. [] he would be one of the world’s best players. Jack Wilshere is a perfect player. Boy, he’s good. He’s so quick and skillful with the ball at his feet.
If it was a biopic about Glenn Greenwald, I would have immersed myself more fully in his personal life and gotten to know him as much as I could, but because it was much more about his relationship to this particular situation, to The Guardian, to Laura Poitras, and to Ewen MacAskill, and Edward Snowden, I was able to really learn a lot about him from reading his book and reading his many articles and accounts of that time.
I fantasised about F. Scott Fitzgerald's 'The Great Gatsby' - I loved it, and then I read everything J. D. Salinger had to offer. Then I was turned on to Kerouac, and his spontaneous prose, his stream of consciousness way of writing. I admired him so much, and I romanticised so much about the '40s and '50s.
Vallabhbhai Patel was known as the Iron Man of India, and it is said that if he was the Prime Minister then the issue of Kashmir wouldn't have come about. And if Savarkar was the Prime Minister, Pakistan wouldn't have come into existence.
He was the fantasy of every girl in the country. He was so far out of realm, her world, that she should have stopped thinking about him the second the door had closed. Should stop thinking about him immediately. Should never think about him again, except maybe as a client - and her prince. And yet, the memory of his fingers against her skin refused to fade.
I can stand here today, leader of the Labour Party, Prime Minister, and say to the British people: you have never had it so ... prudent.
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