Fate Is Not An Eagle, It Creeps

I Know That I Have In My Make-up Layers Of Synthetic Experiences, And That The Most Powerful Of My Memories Are Only Half True.

Some Ideas, Like Dandelions In Lawns, Strike Tenaciously: You May Pull Off The Top But The Root Remains, Drives Down Suckers And May Even Sprout Again.

We Desert Those Who Desert Us; We Cannot Afford To Suffer; We Must Live How We Can.

Art Is For [the Irish] Inseparable From Artifice: Of That, The Theatre Is The Home. Possibly, It Was England Made Me A Novelist.

... In Nine Out Of Ten Cases The Original Wish To Write Is The Wish To Make Oneself Felt[ellipsis In Source] The Non-essential Writer Never Gets Past That Wish.