Revenge is what I want. Nothing but pure unadulterated revenge. But my mother brought me up to be a lady.

I'm starved for love. Not ordinary love but real love. The love that's like music or something.

The purpose of writing is to make your mother and father drop dead with shame.

Dear Mr Skully, I have caught my neck in a mangle and will be indisposed for eternity. Yours in death S.D.

When I die, I want to decompose in a barrel of porter and have it served in all the pubs in Dublin. I wonder would they know it was me?

See all the women seated, youth in their face lifts, old age in their hands.

You know, there must be happiness somewhere, when a lawyer dies.