Let us leave theories there and return to here's hear.

For myself, I always write about Dublin, because if I can get to the heart of Dublin I can get to the heart of all the cities of the world. In the particular is contained the universal.

Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not.

If he had smiled why would he have smiled? To reflect that each one who enters imagines himself to be the first to enter whereas he is always the last term of a preceding series even if the first term of a succeeding one, each imagining himself to be first, last, only and alone whereas he is neither first nor last nor only nor alone in a series originating in and repeated to infinity.

No pen, no ink, no table, no room, no time, no quiet, no inclination.

All Moanday, Tearday, Wailsday, Thumpsday, Frightday, Shatterday.

Shakespeare is the happy hunting ground of all minds that have lost their balance.