The Irishman sustains himself during brief periods of joy by the knowledge that tragedy is just around the corner.

Where there is nothing, there is God.

Time can but make it easier to be wise / Though now it seems impossible, and so / All that you need is patience.

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

Any fool can fight a winning battle, but it needs character to fight a losing one, and that should inspire us; which reminds me that I dreamed the other night that I was being hanged, but was the life and soul of the party.

A line will take us hours maybe; Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, our stitching and unstitching has been naught.

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.