The light music of whiskey falling into glasses made an agreeable interlude.

What did it avail to pray when he knew his soul lusted after its own destruction?

The light music of whiskey falling into glasses made an agreeable interlude.

If the Irish programme did not insist on the Irish language I suppose I could call myself a nationalist. As it is, I am content torecognize myself an exile: and, prophetically, a repudiated one.

I desire to press in my arms the loveliness which has not yet come into the world.

Wipe your glosses with what you know.

The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring. Paintings of Moreau are paintings of ideas. The deepest poetry of Shelley, the words of Hamlet bring our mind into contact with the eternal wisdom; Plato's world of ideas. All the rest is the speculation of schoolboys for schoolboys.