I just have to proceed as usual. No matter what happens, nothing helps with the writing of the next book.

The English wouldn't give you the steam of their piss.

I had no accomplishments except surviving. But that isn't enough in the community where I came from, because everybody was doing it. So I wasn't prepared for America, where everybody is glowing with good teeth and good clothes and food.

I think I settled on the title before I ever wrote the book.

I can't go back. The past won't go away in this family.

The master says it's a glorious thing to die for the Faith and Dad says it's a glorious thing to die for Ireland and I wonder if there's anyone in the world who would like us to live. My brothers are dead and my sister is dead and I wonder if they died for Ireland or for the Faith. Dad says they were too young to die for anything. Mam says it was disease and starvation and him never having a job. Dad says, Och, Angela, puts on his cap, and goes for a long walk.

When I act tough they listen politely till the spasm passes. They know.