I have left my book, I have left my room, For I heard you singing Through the gloom.

People could put up with being bitten by a wolf but what properly riled them was a bite from a sheep.

When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who once.

There was no doubt about it: if you wanted to succeed you had to go away. You could do nothing in Dublin.

By his monstrous way of life he seemed to have put himself beyond the limits of reality. Nothing moved him or spoke to him from the real world unless he heard it in an echo of the infuriated cries within him.

My mouth is full of decayed teeth and my soul of decayed ambitions.

Civilization may be said indeed to be the creation of its outlaws.