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Quote by Ian McClellan

“I always hear parents talking about how outraged they are because their kid saw a boob or something like that on TV. I never hear anyone say that they're outraged because a cartoon character in a commercial that aired during a children's television program told them it was healthy to eat a bowl of chocolate and marshmallows for breakfast. If I had kids, I'd be outraged about that.”

Quote by Ian McClellan

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Ian McClellan

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“The ‘eye for eye’ policy satisfies the logical mind but this policy is also equally impracticable. you may follow this policy against a person who is weaker than you. However, if the person is more powerful than you- like your boss, parents, government, the police-it would be disastrous to follow this policy as it may lead to your total ruin.”

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“I couldn't cry anymore—she had killed something inside me with her last text message, about our, child. Around 2-3 AM, I finally fell asleep, only to be awoken around 4 AM by a strange, bothersome feeling. It could have been anyone or anything else, as I was so blindfolded and unaware of the danger—even though I was perfectly aware of the danger because of my signature on Golan. I soon realised that it was her hair tickling my face, as she leaned over me trying to cover my face with kisses. I was spooked and sat up in bed, thinking that something was crawling on my face. We nearly head-bumped each other when I woke up in surprise. It was then that I realised it was her. It was not nice. I wish she had put her hands on me, if she had touched me and woke me up. If she had communicated honestly instead. But she was out of touch.”

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“Halfway home from Plaza Espana, I was in no rush and stopped by a quiet, closed little square on my way, called Plaza de Santa Madrona. I bought a Lucky Strike, “blando” softpack, “sin aditivos”, from a small bar's cigarette vending machine and ordered a cafe cortado, my favorite coffee in Spain. Both Adam and I smoked the same type of cigarettes in Spain; that was the best one. In Italy, I preferred to smoke MS Azzurro and caffe corretto con La Vecchia Romagna - a short, strong espresso with a shot of Italian cognac. That could wake you up after a seventeen-hour roadtrip from Budapest to Gaeta, which was necessary as administrative duties had been added to my interpreter roles over time. If I made a mistake, I wouldn't receive a bonus. Indeed. There was speech. Only once or twice in almost 5 years by the end of 2014. I knew I would end up at the Magalhaes and Radas corner, walking that way towards home anyhow. I was just sitting on that little square, surrounded by buildings; I was the only person sitting at the bar terrace. This was the first time I did not want to go home to Carrer Radas. There was a fountain in the middle; you could almost hear the water running down into a tub, echoing on the hidden little street which had no traffic whatsoever. It was almost like a holy moment - “Santa Madrona, help me,” I thought. I, the atheist, was asking for some miracle in that silent, peaceful, hidden little plazita where time seemed to stand still.”

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“The Camorra's proud little labyrinthine club could have fit inside either of our potential locations multiple times. One of them was 550 square meters, the other one over 600; both were two stories, both for sale for half a million Euros each. I knew before even opening our own club it might be stolen from us by the Camorra. I knew I would have to be the bridge, the interpreter, to perhaps make a deal with them instead. Meaning, without me, Adam would not be able to make a deal with the Camorra. I did not think that I would, could, or should cross Adam with the same move.”

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