The day I immigrated to the United States, I was given an alien ID card that featured a cute photo of me at age 15. Years later, when I went to the courthouse to become a citizen, a clerk confiscated my card.
"What will you do with it?" my wife asked.
"We burn it," was the answer.
"Could you please cut the photo off and let us keep it?" asked my wife.
"Certainly not," said the clerk. "This card is official U.S. government property. As such it cannot be mutilated before it's destroyed."
When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore.
When an eel bites your thigh and you bleed out and die, that’s a moray.
When you’re smashed with a jug in a South Auckland pub, that’s a Māori.
When you see a big boat tied up with a rope, that’s a mooring.
When you wake up and it’s bright because it’s no longer night, that’s the morning.