Art Is One Thing That Can Go

Reason Can Never Reconcile One To Life: Nothing Allays The Wants One Cannot Explain.

Karen, Her Elbows Folded On The Deck-rail, Wanted To Share With Someone The Pleasure In Being Alone: This Is The Paradox Of Any Happy Solitude. She Had Never Landed At Cork, So This Hill And That Hill Beyond Were As Unexpected As Pictures At Which You Say "oh Look!" Nobody Was Beside Her To Share The Moment, Which Would Have Been Imperfect With Anyone Else There.

Sport And Death Are The Two Great Socializing Factors In Ireland.

This, My First [bicycle] Had An Intrinsic Beauty. And It Opened For Me An Era Of All But Flying, Which Roads Emptily Crossing Theairy, Gold-gorsy Common Enhanced. Nothing Since Has Equalled That Birdlike Freedom.

At The Age Of Twelve I Was Finding The World Too Small: It Appeared To Me Like A Dull, Trim Back Garden, In Which Only Trivial Games Could Be Played.