Evening had fallen. A rim of the young moon cleft the pale waste of sky line, the rim of a silver hoop embedded in grey sand: and the tide was flowing in fast to the land with a low whisper of her waves, islanding a few last figures in distant pools.

The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.

Ulysses He ... saw the dark tangled curls of his bush floating, floating hair of the stream around the limp father of thousands, a languid flatong flower.

Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without passing a pub.

He found in the world without as actual what was in his world within as possible.

Shaw's works make me admire the magnificent tolerance and broadmindedness of the english.

There is only one thing that makes any one athlete better than another, his heart. We all put our underwear on feet first, so we are all human.