Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
(from "The New Colossus" by Emma Lazarus)
...oh, and could you also make sure they have a PhD in engineering before they get here? You know, like these guys:
Oh, never mind. The key is under the mat.
Love, hosaa
not huddling, a little tempest-tost, breathing free
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