To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life.

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

All fiction is autobiographical fantasy.

And in spite of everything, Ireland remains the brain of the Kingdom. The English, judiciously practical and ponderous, furnish the over-stuffed stomach of humanity with a perfect gadget--the water closet. The Irish, condemned to express themselves in a language not their own, have stamped on it the mark of their own genius and compete for glory with the civilized nations. This is then called English literature.

He lived at a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts with doubtful side-glances. He had an odd autobiographical habit which led him to compose in his mind from time to time a short sentence about himself containing a subject in the third person and a verb in the past tense.

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

History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.