We don't like flowers that do not wilt; they must die, and nine she-camel hairs aid memory.

I'm troubled. I'm dissatisfied. I'm Irish.

Originality is... a by-product of sincerity.

If we can't be cordial to these creatures' fleece, I think that we deserve to freeze.

Hindered characters / seldom have mothers / in Irish stories, but they all have grandmothers.

I wonder what Adam and Eve think of it by this time.

As for butterflies, I can hardly conceive of one's attending upon you; but to question the congruence of the complement is vain, if it exists.