In the middle classes the gifted son of a family is always the poorest -- usually a writer or artist with no sense for speculation -- and in a family of peasants, where the average comfort is just over penury, the gifted son sinks also, and is soon a tramp on the roadside.

Every article on these islands has an almost personal character, which gives this simple life, where all art is unknown, something of the artistic beauty of medieval life.

Foreign languages are another favourite topic, and as these men are bilingual they have a fair notion of what it means to speak and think in many different idioms.

There is no language like the Irish for soothing and quieting.

Words, particularly in a play, should have the texture of a crisp, autumn apple.

A translation is no translation unless it will give you the music of a poem along with the words of it.

I'm a good scholar when it comes to reading but a blotting kind of writer when you give me a pen.