Autumn arrives in the early morning.

Nothing can happen nowhere. The locale of the happening always colours the happening, and often, to a degree, shapes it.

Reason can never reconcile one to life: nothing allays the wants one cannot explain.

Where would the Irish be without someone to be Irish at?

The passion of vanity has its own depths in the spirit, and is powerfully militant.

But in general, for the purposes of most novelists, the number of objects genuinely necessary for. . .describing a scene will be found to be very small.

whenever possible I avoid talking. Reprieve from talking is my idea of a holiday. At risk of seeming unsociable, which I am, I admit I love to be left in a beatific trance, when I am in one. Friendly Romans recognize that wish.