Tears and laughter, they are so much Gaelic to me.

I have always been amazed at my contemporaries’ lack of finesse, I whose soul writhed from morning to night, in the mere quest of itself.

In the landscape of extinction, precision is next to godliness.

If there is one question I dread, to which I have never been able to invent a satisfactory reply, it is the question what am I doing.

There is this to be said for Dachsunds of such length and lowness as Nelly, that it makes very little difference to their appearance whether they stand, sit or lie.

Until the day when, your endurance gone, in this world for you without arms, you catch up in yours the first mangy cur you meet, carry it for the time needed for it to love it and you it, then throw it away.

Tears and laughter, they are so much Gaelic to me.