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My mother tongue, Mende, is very expressive, very figurative, and when I write, I always struggle to find the English equivalent of things that I really want to say in Mende. For example, in Mende, you wouldn't say 'night came suddenly'; you would say 'the sky rolled over and changed its sides.'

Mr. Bean is at his best when he is not using words, but I am equally at home in both verbal and nonverbal expression.

No man means all he says, and yet very few say all they mean, for words are slippery and thought is viscous.

My father could swear in Gaelic and English, by the way, ladies and gentlemen.

I do that in whatever language of the country I'm in, because the audience appreciate it.

The English say, Yours Truly, and mean it. The Italians say, I kiss your feet, and mean, I kick your head.

I go to bed with men, not boys.

Language most shows a man, speak that I may see thee.

My English is very bad.

Words impress me. If a man can speak eloquently and beautifully to me, I just melt on the floor.