Those who peacefully gather to express sympathy for the family of Michael Brown must have their rights respected at all times. And journalists must not be harassed or prevented from covering a story that needs to be told.

Wolves and women are relational by nature, inquiring, possessed of great endurance and strength. They are deeply intuitive, intensely concerned with their young, their mate and their pack. Yet both have been hounded, harassed and falsely imputed to be devouring and devious, overly aggressive, of less value than those who are their detractors.

Angolans who repatriate overseas funds and invest in the economy, companies that generate goods, services, and jobs won't be harassed. No questions will be asked about why their money was abroad, and they won't face legal prosecution.

Prohibition, like so many other policies imposed from the moral high ground, typically by those who do not drink, disproportionately affects the poor who resort to illegally brewed alcohol when they want a drink, not infrequently leading to their death, and are more likely to be harassed by the police.

Most women I know have been harassed in some way. And you never wanted to report it, because you were afraid of losing your job or you felt like, hey, did that just happen? I think it's good that women now... have the courage! Because it's not easy.

Anger, pain and a tinge of joy are the recursive emotions I have been waking up to ever since I read reports on how Harvey Weinstein sexually harassed women in Hollywood for years. Some of these women are actors I have been longing to co-star with even if they reside in another part of the globe.

My prayers, my tears, my wishes, fears, and lamentations, were witnessed by myself and heaven alone. When we are harassed by sorrows or anxieties, or long oppressed by any powerful feelings which we must keep to ourselves, for which we can obtain and seek no sympathy from any living creature, and which yet we cannot, or will not wholly crush, we often naturally seek relief in poetry-and often find it, too-whether in the effusions of others, which seem to harmonize with our existing case, or in our own attempts to give utterance to those thoughts and feelings in strains less musical, perchance, but more appropriate, and therefore more penetrating and sympathetic, and, for the time, more soothing, or more powerful to rouse and to unburden the oppressed and swollen heart.

I enjoy almost everything. Yet I have some restless searcher in me. Why is there not a discovery in life? Something one can lay hands on and say "This is it"? My depression is a harassed feeling. I'm looking: but that's not it - that's not it. What is it? And shall I die before I find it?

Right now I have some big dreams. But at the same time if I get annoyed and harassed by the media I'll just quit. I don't care. We're set for life. I have quite a temper.

Because I'm a young black man driving a really nice expensive car I sometimes get harassed when I'm rolling through a ghetto neighbourhood.