I was lonelier than I should be, for a woman in love, or half in love.

Later as the day cools and they have gone in, the cry of the corncrake will carry across those same fields and over the lake to the blue-hazed mountain, such a lonely evening sound to it, like the lonely evening sound of the mothers, saying it is not our fault that we weep so, it is nature's fault that makes us first full, then empty.

Recollection is not something that I can summon up, it simply comes and I am the servant of it.

It's not the vote women need, we should be armed.

shadows of love, inebriations of love, foretastes of love, trickles of love, but never yet the one true love.

I'm an Irish Catholic and I have a long iceberg of guilt.

It was the first time that I came face to face with madness and feared it and was fascinated by it.