Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not.
Mr. Duffy lived a short distance from his body.
Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without passing a pub.
Civilization may be said indeed to be the creation of its outlaws.
And when all was said and done the lies a fellow told about himself couldn't probably hold a proverbial candle to the wholesale whoppers other fellows coined about him.
What did it avail to pray when he knew his soul lusted after its own destruction?