Four score and seven years ago, I have a dream. I have a dream that my husband will not be judged by the orange hue of his skin, but the content on his bank account.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. And so, my fellow populists: ask not what Mr Trump can do for you, and the only thing you have to fear, is a stiff wind.
For the first time in my adult life, I am really proud of my country.
Nope. Not getting it.