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.

Perhaps it’s true, my happiest moments are the anticipation of other moments still to come.

Motherhood: the days are long, the years are short.

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

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.

[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.