There is blood in Mr. Ervine's 'Carson'; he knows nothing about Sir Edward Carson, of course, but his teeth are firmly fixed in the calf of someone's leg, all the time, and he draws blood without a doubt.

Ireland regards sex, when she regards it at all, with an entirely primitive and practical eye.

There is blood in Mr. Ervine's 'Carson'; he knows nothing about Sir Edward Carson, of course, but his teeth are firmly fixed in the calf of someone's leg, all the time, and he draws blood without a doubt.

[On writer George Moore:] ... I grew curious about Moore. Yet when at the rehearsal of 'Countess Cathleen' in some dark by-way of London, I was told he was present, I cannot recall any form, only an irritation in the dusty atmosphere.

in my skimmings over fiction I cannot recall any writer so continuously implicated in his own work as George Moore.

It's possible to keep drawing this moment out, any moment, hammering it thinner and thinner like beaten gold, like iced chablis, whipping it, whipping it to cheap perfume, each word blown to aneurysm.

We in Ireland are gifted beyond most peoples with a talent for acting, and in Dublin especially, while scorning culture, which indeed we have not got, we are possessed of a most futile and diverting cleverness.