The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is infinite of space: and swiftly, silently the sound is wafted over regions of cycles of cycles of generations that have lived.

Always see a fellows weak point in his wife.

Every jackass going the roads thinks he has ideas.

When I heard the word ''stream'' uttered with such a revolting primness, what I think of is urine and not the contemporary novel. And besides, it isn't new, it is far from the dernier cri. Shakespeare used it continually, much too much in my opinion, and there's Tristam Shandy, not to mention the "Agamemnon."

(...) You cruel creature, little mite of a thing with a heart the size of a fullstop.

To discover the mode of life or of art whereby my spirit could express itself in unfettered freedom.

Save the trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O.