What is better than to sit at the end of the day and drink wine with friends, or substitutes for friends?

O cold ! O shivery ! It was your ambrosial beauty. Forget, forgive. Kismet. Let me off this once.

A way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.

I could call my wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child's play, ugly monotonous child's play.

I'll tickle his catastrophe.

Interpretations of interpretations interpreted.

I fear those big words, Stephen said, which make us so unhappy.