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I now understand that my welfare is only possible if I acknowledge my unity with all the people of the world, without exception.

Leo Tolstoy

Fofanah […] pulled out an assault rifle from his bag and aimed it at a cashier […]
The cashier dived behind the counter, no money was stolen and Fofanah left the bank. But he was pursued by Met Police Commander Adrian Hanstock who, in a twist of fate, had been in front of him in the queue.
He was chased down Borough High Street by the officer, along with the bank’s assistant manager Dean Smith and Michael Duncan - a trainee Ambulance driver.
While they were following him, they saw a transit van driven by John Girton, a roofer, who mounted the pavement and pulled up in front of Fofanah. Mr Girton and his colleague Errol Gray had witnessed Fofanah leaving the bank, presumed it was a terrorist incident and decided to apprehend him. They then knocked Fofanah down in their van and he was forced to flee down a nearby alleyway. Mr Girton and Mr Gray got out of their vehicle and followed him through a series of alleys into St Thomas Street.
An ice cream vendor who was parked there saw Fofanah being chased by the two men, and joined the pursuit.
A security officer at Guy’s Hospital, Daniel Simons, who was patrolling in the area then blocked Fofanah’s path, at which point he then took the rifle out of the bag again.
Another security manager, who has not been identified, grabbed the barrel and pointed it at the ground and pushed Fofanah back on to some railings.
At this point he was joined by the ice cream seller and Mr Simons, who helped him disarm Fofanah, and held him on the ground until police arrived on scene.

Before going to drink with my old brother
I will unplug my telephone
Coming back drunk
I always could not help phoning a friend
After drinking I might look ugly
and sound piercing
Waking up
I then realized
Nobody would like
To listen to nonsense from a drunk
The friend’s voices from the phone
Became strange and distanced
After such a night after drinking
I would love Raymond Carver
For two drunks
To write useless poems face to face
Feeling neither shamed nor embarrassed
I will always, always remind myself
Before getting drunk
Unplug the telephone

Liu Xia

Is it a tree?
It’s me, alone.
Is it a winter tree?
It’s always like this, all year round.
Where are the leaves?
The leaves are farther away.
Why draw a tree?
I like how it stands.
Aren’t you tired of being a tree your whole life?
Even when exhausted, I want to stand.
Is there anyone with you?
There are birds.
I don’t see any.
Listen to the sound of fluttering wings.
Wouldn’t it be nice to draw birds on the tree?
I’m too old to see, blind.
Perhaps you don’t know how to draw a bird at all?
You’re right. I don’t know how.
You’re an old stubborn tree.
I am.

Liu Xia

Don’t make stuff because you want to make money — it will never make you enough money. And don’t make stuff because you want to get famous — because you will never feel famous enough. Make gifts for people — and work hard on making those gifts in the hope that those people will notice and like the gifts.
Maybe they will notice how hard you worked, and maybe they won’t — and if they don’t notice, I know it’s frustrating. But, ultimately, that doesn’t change anything — because your responsibility is not to the people you’re making the gift for, but to the gift itself.

John Green

You know that joke, “how do you know when someone has an iPad? Because they tell you”? This adapts very well to the Take That tax avoider. How do you know how Gary Barlow lost five stone? Because he tells you. In precis, he realised, after years of trial and error, “that he doesn’t have the kind of body that allows him to eat whatever he likes” and thereafter, cut out sugar, alcohol, any solids at all after 2pm, and refined carbohydrates. I know! As if he couldn’t get any more charismatic.

Zoe Williams

There are, first of all, two kinds of authors: those who write for the subject’s sake, and those who write for writing’s sake. The first kind have had thoughts or experiences which seem to them worth communicating, while the second kind need money and consequently write for money. They think in order to write […]

Arthur Schopenhauer