Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly every day.

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.

Politeness costs nothing. Nothing, that is, to him that shows it; but if often costs the world very dear.

She danced a jig, she sung a song that took my heart away.

Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly every day.

History of Ireland--lawlessness and turbulency, robbery and oppression, hatred and revenge, blind selfishness everywhere--no principle, no heroism. What can be done with it?

Round the world and home again, that's the sailor's way!