A brier rose whose buds yield fragrant harvest for the honey bee.

Another man whose social life has ruined him.

A man whose life has been dishonourable is not entitled to escape disgrace in death.

Fatah is a political party and movement, whose chairman is Mahmoud Abbas.

Indeed, wretched the man whose fame makes his misfortunes famous.

I’m not one of those professors whose office is encased floor-to-ceiling with books. By the way, I think academics do this to intimidate their visitors.

Our systems, perhaps, are nothing more than an unconscious apology for our faults, a gigantic scaffolding whose object is to hide from us our favorite sin.

There’s a lot of artists whose contracts are written in such a way that they do not get paid for what’s happening on streaming services.

There are some women whose pregnancy would make some sly bachelor smile.

To me, I’m for a band whose forefront is the music.

When you seek advice, do not withhold any facts from the person whose advice you seek.

Something that I think I figured out slowly was if you’re playing a show and there’s a chatter or there is, you know, a lot of noise – people talking or something – I was...

The Why’s of suffering keep us shrouded in a seemingly bottomless void of abstraction where God is reduced to a finite ethical agent, a limited psychological personality, whose purposes measure on the same scale as...

It is just that we should be grateful, not only to those with whose views we may agree, but also to those who have expressed more superficial views; for these also contributed something, by developing...

Thank you to the children whose innocent words encouraged me.

The networks are not some chicken-coop manufacturing lobby whose calls nobody returns.

I think those autoworkers whose industry would have collapsed if the president hadn’t intervened are certainly better off.

The men whose manhood you have broken will loathe you, and will always be brooding and scheming to strike a fresh blow.

I remember certain lines and whose they are.

I just finished writing an essay about William Maxwell, an American writer whose work I admire very much.

John Boehner is the ultimate Beltway hack, a man whose unmatched and self-serving skill at political survival has made him, after two decades in Washington, the hairy blue mold on the American congressional sandwich.

At 15, I knew someone whose mother cooked macrobiotic, so I persuaded my mother to go macrobiotic with me.

Even in moments of tranquility, Murray Walker sounds like a man whose trousers are on fire.

There are a couple of teachers I have had without whose influence I would not be as happy with who I am.

My beauty icons are women whose images are self-created.

Nations whose nationalism is destroyed are subject to ruin.