One Christmas my father kept our tree up till March. He hated to see it go. I loved that.

Take off your bedroom slippers. Put on your marching shoes ' he said his voice rising as applause and cheers mounted. 'Shake it off. Stop complainin'. Stop grumblin'. Stop cryin'. We are going to press on. We have work to do.

My father has a pragmatic mind. He marched with Dr. King in the '60s and he's very much for women's rights.

The enemy of the conventional wisdom is not ideas but the march of events.

The Wedding March has a bit of a death march in it.

The Wedding March always reminds me of the music played when soldiers go into battle.

When the wedding march sounds the resolute approach the clock no longer ticks it tolls the hour. The figures in the aisle are no longer individuals they symbolize the human race.

One of the good things about the way the Gulf War ended in 1991 is you'd see the Vietnam veterans marching with the Gulf War veterans.

I had a teacher in art school who said something about the only works he really enjoyed seeing or found much in were works where he had a sense that a discovery was made in the course of making this object. I like to hold to that as my marching orders.

Of all the failed technologies that litter the onward march of science - steam carriages zeppelins armoured trains - none has been so catastrophic to prosperity as the last century's attempt to generate electricity from nuclear fission.