Twilight, a timid, fawn, went glimmering by, and Night, the dark-blue hunter, followed fast.

Forgive me, Spirit of my spirit, for this, that I have found it easier to read the mystery told in tears and understood Thee better in sorrow than in joy.

Ah, to think how thin the veil that lies Between the pain of hell and Paradise.

Whiskey: a torchligh procession marching down your throat.

A literary movement: five or six people who live in the same town and hate each other.

After the spiritual powers, there is no thing in the world more unconquerable than the spirit of nationality. ... The spirit of nationality in Ireland will persist even though the mightiest of material powers be its neighbor.

No leader, however great a personality he may be, is as important to a people as their own intellectual development.