Oh Ireland My First And Only Love

(...) The New Nine Muses, Commerce, Operatic Music, Amor, Publicity, Manufacture, Liberty Of Specch, Plural Voting, Gastronomy, Private Hygiene, Seaside Concert Entertainments, Painless Obstetrics And Astronomy For The People.

Imagine Some Foul And Putrid Corpse That Has Lain Rotting And Decomposing In The Grave, A Jelly-like Mass Of Liquid Corruption. Imagine Such A Corpse A Prey To Flames, Devoured By The Fire Of Burning Brimstone And Giving Off Dense Choking Fumes Of Nauseous Loathsome Decomposition. And Then Imagine This Sickening Stench, Multiplied A Millionfold And A Millionfold Again From The Millions Upon Millions Of Fetid Carcasses Massed Together In The Reeking Darkness, A Huge And Rotting Human Fungus. Imagine All This, And You Will Have Some Idea Of The Horror Of The Stench Of Hell.

Too Excited To Be Genuinely Happy

As I Am. As I Am. All Or Not At All.

I Wanted Real Adventures To Happen To Myself. But Real Adventures, I Reflected, Do Not Happen To People Who Remain At Home: They Must Be Sought Abroad.