Why is it that words like these seem dull and cold? Is it because there is no word tender enough to be your name?
I think I would know Nora’s fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women.
Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.
Children must be educated by love, not punishment.
And if he had judged her harshly? If her life were a simple rosary of hours, her life simple and strange as a bird’s life, gay in the morning, restless all day, tired at sundown? Her heart simple and willful as a bird’s heart?
The sea, the snotgreen sea, the scrotumtightening sea.
The men that is now is only all palaver and what they can get out of you.
It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked looking-glass of a servant.
If Ireland is to become a new Ireland she must first become European.
He found in the world without as actual what was in his world within as possible.
You forget that the kingdom of heaven suffers violence: and the kingdom of heaven is like a woman.
Satan, really, is the romantic youth of Jesus re-appearing for a moment.
Ireland is the old sow that eats her farrow.
Ireland sober is Ireland stiff.
Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo.
What incensed him the most was the blatant jokes of the ones that passed it all off as a jest, pretending to understand everything and in reality not knowing their own minds.
Oh Ireland my first and only love Where Christ and Caesar are hand in glove!
This race and this country and this life produced me, he said. I shall express myself as I am.
He drew forth a phrase from his treasure and spoke it softly to himself: A day of dappled seaborne clouds.
What did it avail to pray when he knew his soul lusted after its own destruction?