For The Years, He Felt, Had Not

Satan, Really, Is The Romantic Youth Of Jesus Re-appearing For A Moment.

We Are Bound Together By The Sympathy Of Our Antipathies.

I Want To Give A Picture Of Dublin So Complete That If The City Suddenly Disappeared From The Earth It Could Be Reconstructed Out Of My Book.

There's No Friends Like The Old Friends.

Human Society Is The Embodiment Of Changeless Laws Which The Whimsicalities And Circumstances Of Men And Women Involve And Overwrap. The Realm Of Literature Is The Realm Of These Accidental Manners And Humours--a Spacious Realm; And The True Literary Artist Concerns Himself Mainly With Them.