I Have The Words Already. What I

All Things Are Inconstant Except The Faith In The Soul, Which Changes All Things And Fills Their Inconstancy With Light.

The Men That Is Now Is Only All Palaver And What They Can Get Out Of You.

For Myself, I Always Write About Dublin, Because If I Can Get To The Heart Of Dublin I Can Get To The Heart Of All The Cities Of The World. In The Particular Is Contained The Universal.

When The Short Days Of Winter Came, Dusk Fell Before We Had Well Eaten Our Dinners. When We Met In The Street The Houses Had Grown Sombre. The Space Of Sky Above Us Was The Colour Of Ever-changing Violet And Towards It The Lamps Of The Street Lifted Their Feeble Lanterns. The Cold Air Stung Us And We Played Till Our Bodies Glowed. Our Shouts Echoed In The Silent Street.

I Am, A Stride At A Time. A Very Short Space Of Time Through Very Short Time Of Space.