The nerve-system of many an Urning is the finest and the most complicated musical instrument in the service of the interior personality that can be imagined.

People's personalities, like buildings, have various facades, some pleasant to view, some not.

Homophobic, me? I'm not afraid of gays, I just think they're dirty bestards.

Homosexuals are not welcome in the Gambia.

We talk of strong personalities, and they are strong, until the not-every-day when we see them as we might see one woman alone in a desert, and know that all the strength we thought we knew was only courage, only her lone song echoing among the stones; and then at last when we have understood this and made up our minds to hear the song and admire its courage and its sweetness, we wait for the next note and it does not come. The last word, with its pure tone, echoes and fades and is gone, and we realize—only then—that we do not know what it was, that we have been too intent on the melody to hear even one word. We go then to find the singer, thinking she will be standing where we last saw her. There are only bones and sand and a few faded rags.

Homosexuals are riding high in the media.