I am not kind, I cut people off as with shears and I drop them like nettles.

never forget this moment, the hum of the bee, the saffron threads of the flower, the drawn blinds, nature's assiduousness and human cruelty.

Death in its way comes just as much of a surprise as birth.

... we have so many voices in us, how do we know which ones to obey?

I am not kind, I cut people off as with shears and I drop them like nettles.

Irish? In truth I would not want to be anything else. It is a state of mind as well as an actual country. It is being at odds withother nationalities, having quite different philosophy about pleasure, about punishment, about life, and about death. At least it does not leave one pusillanimous.

There was I, devouring books and yet allowing a man who had never read a book to walk me home for a bit of harmless fumbling on the front steps.