One Can Forgive Shakespeare Anything, Except One's

In London, I've Always Lived Within 10 Miles Of Where I Was Born. You See, There Is Something Called A Spirit Of Place, And My Place Happens To Be London, At Least Once A Fortnight.

The World Is A Sea In Which We All Must Surely Drown.

There Is A Word In Old English Which Belongs Wholly To That Civilization - "dustsceawung," Meaning Contemplation Of Dust. It Is A True Image Of The Anglo-saxon Mind, Or At Least An Echo Of That Consciousness Which Considered Transcience And Loss To Be Part Of The Human Estate; It Was A World In Which Life Was Uncertain And The Principal Diety Was Fate Or Destiny Or "wyrd."

My Great Fear Has Always Been Complete And Utter Failure. Hence, You See, All The Dispossessed People In My Fiction, And Why I Try To Earn As Much Money As I Can. It's A Defense. I Don't Enjoy It Or Do Anything With It.

What Captivity Has Been To The Jews, Exile Has Been To The Irish. For Us, The Romance Of Our Native Land Begins Only After We Have Left Home; It Is Really Only With Other People That We Become Irishmen.