I hear a sudden cry of pain! There is a rabbit in a snare.

Finality is death. Perfection is finality. Nothing is perfect. There are lumps in it.

You must be fit to give before you can be fit to receive.

My three-thousand mile walk through Ireland convinced me of one thing - the possibility of organising a proper movement for the independence of my native land.

A woman is a branchy tree and man a singing wind; and from her branches carelessly he takes what he can find.

Men come of age at sixty, women at fifteen.

Can a spear divine the Eternal Will?