“They took away our land, our language, and our religion; but they could never harness our tongues...”

“Our language needs endless synonyms for beautiful; the eyes could see what the tongue cannot possibly describe.”

“Our ancestors,” he went on after a while, “took this land. They took it and made it and held it. We do not give up what our ancestors gave us. They came across the sea and they fought here, and they built here and they’re buried here. This is our land, mixed with our blood, strengthened with our bone. Ours!” He was angry, but he was often angry. He glowered at me, as if wondering whether I was strong enough to hold this land of Northumbria that our ancestors had won with sword and spear and blood and slaughter.”

“We can't just run away. It's our land. Our people. We have a duty.”

“We can change our wives,” he said. “We can change our jobs, our nationalities and even our religions, but we can never change our team.”

“They made us many promises, more than I can remember, but they never kept but one; they promised to take our land, and they took it.”