I Shall Write A Book Some Day

If Ireland Is To Become A New Ireland She Must First Become European.

I Fear Those Big Words, Stephen Said, Which Make Us So Unhappy.

What Birds Were They? (...) He Listened To The Cries: Like The Squeak Of Mice Be- Hind The Wainscot : A Shrill Twofold Note. But The Notes Were Long And Shrill And Whirring, Unlike The Cry Of Vermin, Falling A Third Or A Fourth And Trilled As The Flying Beaks Clove The Air. Their Cry Was Shrill And Clear And Fine And Falling Like Threads Of Silken Light Unwound From Whirring Spools.

God Made Food; The Devil The Cooks.

The Incompatibility Of Aquacity With The Erratic Originality Of Genius.