“…At the very instant the thorn enters there is no awareness in it of the dying to come; it simply sings and sings until there is not the life left to utter another note. But we, when we put the thorns in our breasts, we know. We understand. And still we do it. Still we do it…” — The thorn birds.
“En verdad lamento ser tan difícil, ésa es la única palabra que encuentro para definirme, difícil en cuanto a mi forma de ser, mi manera de pensar, soy difícil de tratar, de querer, de soportar, créeme, sé que lo soy.”