I come from a small village in Sicily. For all Italian people, family is very important. We don't fight with our families.
I grew up in Sierra Leone, in a small village where as a boy my imagination was sparked by the oral tradition of storytelling. At a very young age I learned the importance of telling stories - I saw that stories are the most potent way of seeing anything we encounter in our lives, and how we can deal with living.
My father was a doctor, and I admired him and got along well with him. He took me with him on house calls. We were living in Flushing, which was then a sleepy village of 25,000 - before the subway got there. I've been sure I wanted to be a doctor since I was about 12.
New Zealand is not a small country but a large village.
I live in a Swiss village so small, if you sneeze everyone knows.
My parents loved music, and my father would come home with cassette tapes of Chic and the Village People and Barbra Streisand. We had all these sounds always going. We never had somber music - always upbeat.
Rising living standards - whether in a village, a region, a nation, or the world - depend first on specialization: on letting people concentrate on what they do best and trade with others who specialize in other things.
Ziggy Stardust, the Village People, and punk rock really shaped who I am as a person and as a gay man.
I refuse to be held up as some kind of superwoman because, in my mind, the superwomen are the ones who do it on their own. I have my partner, who will be a stay-at-home father. I will do as much as I can, but I will have a village around me, and there's lots of people who don't have that.
I would often take this bus and go to a nearby village where I had hordes of animal friends. I was hardly around four or five years old then. The conductor was so used to seeing me hop on to the bus and get down at the same place, that he never asked any questions. The strangest part is, he never asked for a ticket either!
Our parents faced more hardship than us. They didn't stop us from training despite hearing the taunts from the people in the village. We were fortunate to have parents like them.
Many of our own people here in this country do not ask about computers, telephones and television sets. They ask - when will we get a road to our village.
I grew up playing with kids from Hurt Village, playing with kids from other housing projects, Lamar Terrace, because my grandmother lived in that particular area. So, I always wondered how I would have turned out if I would have lived in that particular given circumstance.
I have a constituency with 52,000 people and a million sheep. I was in one village where a local kid was run over by a tractor. They took him to Carlisle, but they couldn't be bothered to wait at the hospital. So they put him in a darkened room for two weeks, then said he was fine. But I'm not so sure he was.
I started - well, in England it works a little bit differently. You have to do Fringe theatre, which is basically free theatre. You do it in pubs and small theaters and village halls across the country, and you work for a theatre company. You're part of a troupe.
I state in no uncertain terms: An order to uproot an Arab village or a Jewish settlement violates the most basic of human rights... It's a difficult dilemma.
Some, I verily believe, delight to be slave-men; it is a joy to them, and they would not change their condition; not only miserable village wretches, but men in good position, well-to-do sycophants.
My mom is a woman who grew up in a small farming village in the West Bank called Beit Ur El Foka. She only went to school up to 8th grade and then dropped out to go work in a tailor shop that made dresses and different embroidered designs to make money for her family.
I remember going into a bookshop, and the only book I saw with a black child on the cover was 'A Thief in the Village' by James Berry, and I thought, 'Is this still the state of publishing?' Then I thought, 'Either I can whine about it or try to do something about it.'
I had met a young lady who wanted to be in the theater. It was Judy Holliday. She had somehow fallen down the steps of the Village Vanguard, which still exists today.