Saying that a great genius is mad, while at the same time recognizing his artistic worth, is like saying that he had rheumatism or suffered from diabetes. Madness, in fact, is a medical term that can claim no more notice from the objective critic than he grants the charge of heresy raised by the theologian, or the charge of immorality raised by the police.

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.

His eyes were dimmed with tears and, looking humbly up to heaven, he wept for the innocence he had lost.

White wine is like electricity. Red wine looks and tastes like a liquified beefsteak.

There was no doubt about it: if you wanted to succeed you had to go away. You could do nothing in Dublin.

Love loves to love love.

Ireland sober is Ireland stiff.